


INiTIATE

by Kyer



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League - All Media Types, The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mystery, Not DC52 canon, Not Flash TV canon, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:37:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyer/pseuds/Kyer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FYI: THIS IS AN UNFINISHED STORY STARTED YEARS AGO.  AT THIS TIME WOULD SAY NOT LIKELY TO EVER FINISH, STILL WANT TO SAVE.  DON'T READ UNLESS BORED.  YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.  :-)</p><p>They were supposed to be heroes & heroes were the good guys who fought the bad guys, right?<br/>No one ever considered that sometimes it was hard to tell the two apart<br/>...until the JLA brought into their midst a mystery from their past.</p><p>The Green Lantern investigates a rumored 'ghost' that has suddenly sprung up around a small town.  The wind creature is revealed to be a young man; in fact, a speedster.  Problem solved?<br/>Maybe not.<br/>Allen is a complete mystery.  He won't or can't talk about where he came from.  His i.d. is fake.  Records past a month old--when he showed up in Kansas--can't be found...anywhere.  In fact, there is no solid evidence that "Allen" exists at all.<br/>Except, perhaps, for a single engraved message on an old school memento...and an elusive memory within the mind of The Martian Manhunter.</p><p>Meanwhile, across much of the continental U.S. temperatures are above normal.</p><p>For the past month.</p><p>Coincidence?<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a non-profit work of fanfiction written for fun. The writer does not own any of the characters or places created by DC Universe or any other licensed product. Lyrics from: Across This Great Divide as sung by Linkin Park.
> 
> Setting is AU.
> 
> Unfinished work posted at FFN circa 2010 being edited and archived here after deletion there.
> 
> Note: Yeah, I really dislike the title Hawkgirl. Put 'girl' and 'boy' in same category as 'Baby', 'babe'. Words originally meant to refer to children should -never- be used for adults. It's demeaning and not romantic or 'cute' at all.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: I'M NOT REALLY WRITING LATELY. THIS IS JUST ME POKING ABOUT AND TRYING TO SAVE SOME OLD, UNFINISHED WORK BEFORE HAVE TO MOVE. THIS MAY NEVER GET FINISHED, BUT NOT INCLINED TO ORPHAN THINGS AS YET.

* * *

.

 **I N** • i • **T I** • **A T E**

.

 _verb_ |iˈni sh ēˌāt| [ trans. ]

 **1** begin, start (off), commence.

 **2** admit (someone) into a secret or obscure society or a group, typically with a ritual.

 _noun_ |iˈni sh ēit| |ɪˈnɪʃɪət| a person who has been initiated into an organization or activity, typically recently.

.

.

_I remembered black skies, the lightning all around me_

_I remembered each flash as time began to blur_

_Like a startling sign that fate had finally found me_

_And your voice was all I heard_

_That I get what I deserve_

.

.

* * *

.

.

Prelude:

_Unknown Wilderness: Two months ago_

.

Dirt cascaded down...the last of many shovelfuls emptied of their loose earth before the first one had even arrived at it's somber destination. The land was not really made for digging holes what with it being dotted with stones and old river rocks, but not enough so as to deny the right-of-way to forged steel in the hands of a determined worker.

Finished with the implement, the teenager simply let the shovel drop. It made a dull ringing noise when the metal hit a stone marker that had been carved by hand. The mourner wiped his eyes with hands that had oddly managed to remain clean despite the grimy work. This action of trying to deal with the physical evidence of his distress only seemed to encourage the salty liquid to flow more freely as if his own body was rebuking him for even wanting to pretend that everything was all right.

Everything was most definitely _not_ all right. That much, at least, he understood.

The youth gave up what was proving to be a futile exercise and let subsequent tears flow unhindered as he set the stone in place. Some hit the stone, creating dark little circles and streaks upon the otherwise pristine whiteness, mute evidence to his failure. He decided it didn't matter. There was no one around to see anyway.

No one to judge; none to condemn.

(Was that actually a good thing? Was it fair? It didn't seem so. Surely he should be punished somehow? Or was being alone his penalty? He was as far as he knew the only human around for hundreds of miles. Maybe even more.)

Another splatter hit the stone; this one coming from the dark clouds hanging overhead. It was joined by three more, gentle plops of rain before it just stopped. Thunder rolled in the distance like a sorrowful dirge promising more rain to come.

_An empty promise._

No more drops fell.

The thunder protested: _'Rain! Rain!'_ Yet the humidity level paid it no mind, dropping faster than it had risen.

The air went still.

Even the heavens agreed.

Everything was _not_ all right...nor would it ever be again.

"I'm sorry," the man whispered to the rough-edged grave marker, "I'm so sorry. But I'll make it up to you. I swear I will."

Noises sounded behind him. It took him a moment to identify them as the crackle of dead leaves. Swallowing, he turned around and glared at the intruder.

“You.”

* * *


	2. The Justice League

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FYI: THIS IS AN UNFINISHED STORY I WANT TO SAVE, BUT CAN'T FIGURE OUT HOW TO KEEP AS A DRAFT WITHOUT POSTING. Seriously, don't read unless you are utterly bored. I'm horrendously slow when it comes to posting.

.

Chapter One: The Justice League of America

.

_Metropolis: The Metro Tower: home base of operations for the fledgling JLA._

_._

The seven-member Justice League was holding a closed-door meeting. It was a private conference that was currently sans one registered attendee. Strictly speaking, they were missing _two_ , but one of those had a viable excuse being as Aquaman had already informed them days earlier that he had important state business to attend to in Atlantis that coincided with the League meeting; matters of state which could not be postponed. That was fine with his teammates. Since Arthur Curry was the monarch of a (humanoid, but not human) aquatic kingdom and as such had many responsibilities to his people, he was cut some slack...especially since Arthur knew the importance of giving a _heads up_. This had less to do with politeness than with an understanding of political ties and the tactfulness such bonds demanded from participants if an alliance was to run smoothly.

The other member, unfortunately, had _not_ provided any sort of advanced notice and thus was now officially listed as being AWOL as of several minutes ago. It was not that this other absentee member didn't also have far-reaching duties and in a territory that vastly surpassed those of the King of the Seas; however, unlike Arthur Curry, the super-powered individual currently engaged in _playing hooky_ had not applied for dismissal in advance or even called in as absent due to an unavoidable and out-of-the-blue emergency within his section of the galaxy.

This willful snubbing of due process made certain others within the group rather annoyed at said member.

'A member that could very easily be permanently dismissed if he keeps this up' thought an increasingly irritated chairman. Large hands activated his communicator yet again while the others sat and looked on with, if not placidity, at least the knowledge of when to keep one's trap shut.

"Lantern, come in..." Superman demanded.

As before, silence was all that came from their aural devices or the room's speakers. Kal-El growled an obscenity and forced himself not to react in any way that would result in something getting destroyed. What with the strength he possessed that would be far too easy to accomplish whether he meant to make a detraction from their operating budget or not.

Kal-El was genetically of the Kryptonian race, a world long since pulverized by it's sun; he was the only known survivor of the calamity. Though human enough in appearance to pass for one, his body chemistry was different; much denser. Most metals bounced right off his skin and he could escape the pull of Earth's gravity with a single jump. If injured, his physiology was able to transform yellow sunlight into a regenerative power source with astonishing alacrity. For these reasons the media commonly referred to him as _Superman_.

Sitting next to the fuming Superman, Diana, Princess of Themyscira, turned to a vaguely humanoid and green-hued League member who was meditating to her right, seeking his input on what could be keeping their missing teammate and thus indirectly prolonging their stay in the suffocating chamber.

As with Aquaman, Wonder Woman was also an enhanced native of Earth, likewise of royal blood, though unlike Arthur she was still only the heir apparent to the throne and not actively ruling over her Amazon sisters as yet. Wielding strength given by a race of 'gods' that came close to matching that of Superman's, Diana was a skilled mediator as well as a warrior. Rather than interrupt Kal-El and question his atypically foul mood, she quietly sought information from the league's other alien. True, Kal-El would still be able to hear the sussuration of her voice as if she was talking normally, but this way better illustrated her desire not to aggravate the situation.

The room truly was stifling and she yearned to retreat to somewhere more emotionally and physically pleasant.

"J'onn?"

The Martian Manhunter upon realizing that he was being addressed by Wonder Woman came out of his meditation in order to answer her. Also sensing the need for tact as well as his own desire to escape the heat (Martians did not fare well in a hot environment) J'onzz answered with the same quietude:

"He has increased the level of his shielding. I can sense he is alive, but not where he is. However, I believe I have managed to nudge his mind enough to _remind_ him to turn his communicator back on. Whether he will answer..." J'onn J'onzz did the gesture that humans called a 'shrug' and left it at that. As a telepath he could read most minds and emotions fairly well. _Influencing actions_ was much harder to do as well as an act distasteful to him. Even if that wasn't the case, forcing his own desires on another when the target was of such a strong will was nigh impossible and constituted great risk to his own mental well being.

Still grumbling that John Stewart had better have had a good reason for turning it off in the first place, Superman touched his own ear communicator for what seemed like the umpteenth time in only a few minutes. "Green Lantern...come in." He paused for any reply, but there was still only static answering him back. "Damn it, John, acknowledge me!"

What was really ticking Kal-El off was that Stewart was usually the one with the most rigid stance on keeping to schedules. The Detroit born architect had started out as a (normal human) U.S. Army Marine before he'd been drafted into a galactic law-enforcing organization that dwarfed any military group of Earth's both in size and in adhering to strict discipline. Because of this, Stewart took pains to let the League know when he'd stepped out of the solar system to attend to some far-flung brouhaha. So where was the vaunted Green Lantern and his orderliness now?

It was another few seconds before John Stewart finally deigned to acknowledge the call.

The League calculated that it came a fraction of a second before Superman experimented with suffering an aneurism.

.

(((-Don't take this the wrong way, but this is a really bad time, Superman.-))) Stewart's usual gruff professional tone held a hint of an underlying charge to it that only those who knew him very well could pick out:

The Green Lantern of galaxy sector 2814 had discovered something intriguing.

Annoyed at having been kept waiting, Kal-El didn't as yet care so much about the _why_ of Stewart's tardiness as the _when the man would be back_. He opened the link and made clear his complaint: "Our meeting was scheduled to start ten minutes ago. You're _late_ , Green Lantern. Where are you?"

(((-Meeting? Oh...that.-))) (At least now Stewart sounded a _little_ apologetic if not truly as contrite as the others could wish.) (((-Look, something's come up and you'll just have to hold that conference without me.-)))

"Is it a fight?" Shayera Hol (League title: Hawk Woman demanded with naked eagerness flaring in her green eyes. She opened her russet wings in emphasis, barely mindful of the others seated on either side of her that they not get a face full of feathers. A firm hand settled on her mace, slender fingers fondly stroking where the Nth metal that comprised the spiny ball met the wooden handle. This Thanagarian weapon was one crafted on her home planet and though ascetically not as pleasing to the eye as Aquaman's shining trident or Diana's golden lasso of Truth, was very deadly. To her teammates the mace was almost considered to be an extension of Hawk Woman's arm; she took it with her nearly everywhere.

"Haven't had a good brawl in a week. I'm starting to feel like an old hen cooped up here."

Diana smiled at her enthusiasm. “Then your people's old hens must be formidable indeed, sister.” Pleased by the compliment, Shayera grinned back.

“Of course.”

Their chairman held up his hand for quiet.

"You need help, John?" Superman asked, his ire at the Green Lantern somewhat mollified by this news of trouble. (Kal-El was just as bored as everyone else as well as feeling unusually edgy. He wouldn't mind a bit of a workout: not even one that was acquired by legally punching _something_ around.

If their attentive expressions were anything to go by, most of the rest of The League felt the same way.

.

It had been an abnormally slow week for the Justice League. Calls for assistance by the general populace to the heroes had been steadily decreasing even as temperatures along the Eastern Coast continuously reached past the higher side of normal for the past month or so. Kal-El put the lack of illegal activity down to the sweltering heat as well as would-be criminal masterminds thinking twice before trying something against the Justice League ever since the news of Superman's having landed Lex Luthor in the hospital.

' _Accident_ ,' was what it had been put down as by the media. _"Superman would never seriously hurt a living being intentionally,"_ they asserted from their isolated cocoons.

People believed what they wanted to either because of skillful misinformation or a willing blindness to an uncomfortable truth: no man (or for that matter) off-shoot race or bona-fide alien) was a saint all the time.

Clark Kent, the part-time news reporter for Metropolis's Daily Planet, knew that as well as anyone. As Superman, he didn't think twice about taking strategic advantage of the media's naivety. The end justified the means as long as you were tactful about it to the public and didn't commit outright murder. Anyway, it wasn't like he enjoyed roughing up Luthor out of camera range.

_Not much anyway._

_._

(((-No...I can handle it,-))) Stewart finally replied to Superman's question before Kal-El lost patience again. (((-I'm kind of in the middle of nowhere, anyway.-))) He sounded preoccupied as if the Green Lantern wished they would shut up and leave him be for now, yet dared not come out and actually say it. This distracted air was noted not just by Shayera, his oft-times bed mate.

From a shadowed corner, the sixth and final attending League member had been deftly manipulating the information on his personal data pad ever since it had become apparent that their missing teammate was not going to show up with his usual punctuality. Now that Stewart had finally powered on his League communicator, Batman could track him. Not pinpoint the man's _precise_ location via the tracker...John's ring could somehow interfere with even his most updated tech in that regard, just as it could do with J'onn's telepathy. However, there was no need to alert the others of the exact abilities and inabilities of his equipment: it was better that others were in a state of awe over The Batman's intelligence network while not their knowing it's actual boundaries.

"You're in Kansas...eastern border. Kansas City News reports some interesting developments of late. Supposed paranormal events. Scattered reports of--"

(((-Points to you.-))) Lantern cut him off with a grunt that fell somewhere between amusement and vexation. (Trust Batman to be the first to gather intelligence on something about as fast as the actual eyewitness to it. (((-I'll spare you further trouble before you tell me the name of the intersection I'm standing next to and how much grime is on the sewer cover near my right foot. It's just some hole-in-the-wall place called _Keystone_ City. Mind you, the 'City' part is rather wishful thinking on the inhabitants side. Personally, I'd label it a town...and that's being generous.-)))

The Founders looked blank on the name, though Kal-El could have sworn he heard Bruce's heart skip just a bit out of beat. The Kryptonian put it down to his imagination. Batman rarely went outside of Gotham's county unless it was tied to League business. Anyway, who had ever heard of Keystone? The only town in that Kansas that held any special significance to Superman was Smallville and that wasn't wasn't situated near any of state borders.

"Sounds boring." Batman added nothing more, letting the short observation stand alone as an invitation for Stewart to continue supplying more information. As he expected, the tactic worked.

A derisive snort came from over the meeting room's speakers. (((-You've _no_ idea. The architecture in this place looks like it's stuck in the Great Depression and its people are as bland as a vanilla wafer _without_ the vanilla. The so-called wanted poster pinup boys here are lightweight amateurs that any one of us could lay waste to with ease. Small potatoes bunch of neophytes in colorful pajamas with a few lame toys. I think I made one wet his pants just by showing up.-)))

Superman grumbled in aggravation that was strengthened by his disappointment. If Lantern was not engaged in a fight that the local police couldn't handle or otherwise was in need of _special powers_ assistance, then he had no excuse not to be at the Metro Tower. "In that case, and at the risk of repeating myself, you are missing the meeting..."

His diatribe was interrupted by the sound of something coming over the speaker. It was a noise that could best be described as a million mosquitoes caught in a gale force wind and loudly protesting their plight. After a moment the wind lessened; however, the high-pitched whirring continued for another second before it too slowed enough for Superman to make out what might be syllables strung together without pause or regards to the capacities of most ears -even his. He couldn't quite make it out. The confused looks of the others at the table showed they were even more clueless to what the noise was.

_(((-Heyisyourringglowinggreen? Ittotallyis!That'?Yo?Catgotyourtongue?Hello?-)))  
_

(((-Fuck it!-))) (John sounded startled--something that was rare indeed---or he'd never had made the following admission of helplessness.) (((-Damn! Whatever or whomever you are, quit doing whatever it is you're doing. I can't move!-)))

J'onzz noted Shayera's hand tightened around her mace's handle a millisecond after her anxiety level spiked. She flexed her wings and looked towards Superman for his signal to depart for the Midwest. Not that even The Man Of Steel would be able to get from the Eastern seaboard to Kansas quickly enough to aid Lantern if he'd been broadsided and was unable to protect himself from another attack.

_"Sorryforotwavingmyarmlikethatmakestoomuchwind.Justwantedtoseeifyouwereawakeyouknow?-You'reso slow!Hehwantahandgettingdownfromthatoaktree?"_

"What is that noise?" Superman demanded into the speaker. "It sounds like sped up gibberish." Again, he thought he heard Batman's heart jump out of sync.

 _(((-That_ ,-))) a decidedly disgruntled Lantern huffed over their comm, (((-came from the reason I'm missing the meeting. Just _what_ it is...I don't know yet,-))) they all heard John's grunts as the sounds of tree branches being shoved aside came through, (((-but I _damn well_ mean to find out. This entity is giving even my ring a hard time translating its language _or_ chemistry and my database reference is the best the Guardians at Oa have. Considering they've had several millennium to gather their info...well, that's saying something about this thing if it hasn't already been classified by them. It's a mystery and I am going to solve it.-)))

"What does it look like," Diana asked.

(((-Come over here and you tell me. Currently it's like someone smudged red ink in the air and is blowing it around. Never mind...it's...gone. Damn. No, it's back...or...?-))) They heard him curse in various languages. ((( Fuck! It's like trying to keep tabs on an agitated gnat on a sugar high. )))

"A better question to ask is how it can knock a Green Lantern into a tree?" Batman cut in. "Your force field is powerful enough--"

(((-How did you know I was stuck...?  Never mind, you usually seem to know everything. For your information, my ring was nearly fully energized when I arrived, Batman, so don't go charging me with irresponsible behavior. Just didn't have time to deploy it before I found myself imitating a stuck kite.-)))

"It caught you unaware?" Superman asked, a lecture ready at the tip of his tongue if that was the case. They trained. Both individually and as a group. There was no excuse for being caught with their pants down. Not like _that_ , anyway.

Now John sounded truly aggrieved. (((-Not you too. I wasn't asleep at the wheel, Superman, so don't even go there. As I said, I just _didn't have time to deploy it_. Damned thing is too fast to anticipate or react to. I'm not even sure if it's still here or if my eyes are just catching afterimages. It even kept pace with a construct I sent after it and you know what that means.-)))

Stewart's constructs were energy emanated from his ring and then shaped by his mind into whatever form he wished. The strength and detail that guise took was directed by his will power. Being made of light, the constructs could theoretically be constructed and employed at somewhere between the ring wearer's speed of thought and that of light itself. If this thing could keep pace with even the former, it was in a rare class indeed as most beings could not make it past the speed of sound without artificial aids. For something to outpace the Green Lantern energy in a direct race? That was worrisome.

"Hostile?" Batman asked, voicing what all of them were thinking.

(((-Back!Wait,no.Holdon!-))) Stewart could be heard cursing again.

"Not so far. I'm seriously considering that it thought I was just playing 'keep away' with the construct. Even after knocking me into a tree it didn't take advantage of the situation, but waited for me to get down. Well, waited from _it's_ point of view. It comes and goes so damned fast who knows what mental time zone it's living in. The thing never seems to stop moving. It's a constant blur when it's not disappearing completely. My honest assessment at this point is that it's decided that I'm a toy and it wants to play."

“ _Youwouldn'tbelievewhathappenedinWichita—nuts.Gottago!”_

"You think it's playing cat and mouse with you?" Batman asked. Across from him, Hawkgirl tensed and growled at the thought that some antagonist was teasing her lover before it attacked John for real. More than ever Shayera wanted to bash it. She felt a hand rest upon her arm. Diana, giving her a look of encouragement: The Green Lantern was a great warrior; not easy prey. Shayera didn't exactly relax, but her gaze became a little less murderous.

Unfortunately, the man's own words were not so supportive of Diana's assessment.

(((-Not exactly,-))) Stewart replied with an aggrieved air; mistakenly miffed that they thought him incapable of doing his duties. (((-It's a game, but more like with a puppy that's discovered a shiny new ball to entertain itself with. It could have seriously hurt me a thousand times over before I even realized it was here, but it didn't. Whatever it is, it's...curious about me. Especially my ring.-)))

Batman's habitual grimace deepened. That was foreboding news if Stewart was as helpless to defend against this thing as he was saying. If it took the ring and figured out how to use it's power somehow... "Tried to remove it?"

“ _Missme?Robberyonfifth.HouseonfireinKansasCity.Canyoumakemoreglowingstuff?_

(((-My power ring? No...and I thought it would attempt that too seeing how intrigued it is by it; but no. Other than being a bit annoying— _hey, stop that!_ \--make that pretty annoying, it seems to be fairly harmless. Maybe it's just my imagination, but I swear it's hoping more of my ring's constructs will appear so it can play tag with them.-)))

“Someone'slostinThePacificOcean.Berightback!”

“Damn.” Shayera muttered. A sentiment she was not alone with.

An arch-villain punching bag to dull the growing edge they were feeling would have been perfect. Unfortunately, some odd, mischievous, but ultimately benign alien sprite did not fill that bill. There would be no honor in putting the creature down. This matter was more something that Batman and J'onn would enjoy pursuing if only for intellectual knowledge. Although not normally so inclined towards such activity, apparently John in this instance wished to be included with the more rampant intellectuals of the group if only to categorize the being for his Guardian masters.

If Batman was dismayed by the lack of something to blow up, he didn't show it. The Dark Knight was busy working to have the computer translate the bogey's accelerated language -if language it was- to something more of an understandable level. "Lantern, try to communicate with it."

(((-Like I haven't been?-))) If they didn't know better, they'd have sworn John had just rolled his eyes. Batman was not amused.

"Try _again_."

(((-I don't even know if it's intelligent enough to understand any sentient languages, period.-)))

Shayera leaned forward. "Is it a robot or an alien?" she wanted to know. Not that it mattered very much to her; she enjoyed bashing both with her mace once given the go ahead by their chairman. Yes, so far the thing was not proving terribly alarming, but you never knew--it could suddenly go malicious and thus worthy of a fight. Wouldn't be the first time a supposedly friendly type turned bad. If so, she was ready to go in swinging.

(((-Just... Look, people," (having been together for almost a year now, they could picture Green Lantern glaring at them in their mind's eye) "Short and sweet, because don't really want to play an unabridged game of Twenty Questions right now: I was on my way back when my ring detected an odd energy as I was passing overhead. Seeing as the Guardians are kind of keen that everything unusual be quickly placed into a documented niche, I stopped to check it out and heard tales on a local media broadcast of a so called 'Red Wind Ghost' or 'Flash' that has been performing miracles in the vicinity for the past three weeks. They've even posted a sizable reward for information and any visual proof of their specter.-)))

“ _Wow,didn'trealizeitwouldtakesolongtofindonelittleboatinsuchabigbodyofwater.Oh,hey,thatisjustso--!Canyoumakeitgofaster?Sweet!”_

(((-That's right, Speedy Gonzales, chase it.-))) Green Lantern could be heard to mutter. Louder he said: (((-Turns out they weren't stories...I've been tracking the source of the energy and the tales for the past hour. Or trying to. It's no wonder nobody's cashed--- _oh, no you don't!_ \---in on that reward. The creature is a bit--ha, didn't expect _that_ did you?--- _transformers, more than_....hard to keep in sight let alone get a bead on long enough for my ring to analyze it. All I know is that it is red, seems to be charged with or attracting with some sort of lightning, and is incredibly fast." John paused before adding with a not-quite smothered chuckle of delight. "And likes to race against a green Batcycle.-)))

"What was that?" Superman asked. Did the serious-minded Lantern just...giggle?

"Did he just hum the Transformers theme," Shayera asked aloud, then blushed guiltily from her place at the table. "Not that I ever watch it."

"...robots in disguise..." J'onzz quietly continued the tune to the bemusement of the others. "Interesting."

(((-What was what?-))) Green Lantern's voice snapped with a touch of belligerence. (((-People, If I'm going to have a chance to talk with it, I've got to encourage it to stick around by offering it play toys. You got a problem with that?-)))

"The Batcycle?" growled the Dark Knight. Shayera and Superman were trying without success to reign in their own mirth at the hero's indignation over his beloved tech being put in the same category as a simple plaything.

(((-Yes, the Batcycle...amongst other assorted Bat-vehicles. I'm having to switch the configurations pretty frequently, but the bike seems to hold its attention best. Don't know about you, Batman, but I like to go with what works. I said it's acting like a puppy and dogs do like to chase bikes. At any rate It's taken the bait so don't go arguing with success. If you have a problem with it biting imaginary Bat tires-- -)))

(((-...battery-powered-or-phosphorous?-)))

_What the hell?_

 


	3. The Red Wind Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FYI: THIS IS AN UNFINISHED STORY I WANT TO SAVE, BUT CAN'T FIGURE OUT HOW TO KEEP AS A DRAFT WITHOUT POSTING. Seriously, don't read unless you are utterly bored. I'm horrendously slow when it comes to posting.

**Chapter 2: The Red Wind Ghost**

* * *

_**A/N:** _ **Disclaimer: This is a non-profit work of fanfiction written for fun. The writer does not own any of the characters or places created by DC Universe or any other licensed product.** **Lyrics from: Across This Great Divide as sung by Linkin Park.**

* * *

_._

_._

_So give me reason to prove me wrong; to wash this memory clean_

_Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes_

_Give me reason to fill this hole; connect the space between_

_Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies_

_Across this new divide_

.

.

Chapter 2: The Red Wind Ghost

.

John blinked in surprise, caught feeling a bit wrong footed and not it one bit.  His old drill instructor would have chewed off a Lantern's head for that kind of stupefied reaction even if it had lasted only for a moment. In the Corps such a lapse in control could get you killed-- particularly when your adversary was an unknown quality.  He mentally gave himself the punishment of 200 one-handed push ups to be completed once he was home.  Right now, however...

Frowning, Stewart cast his eyes around the section of a desolated industrial park he was in the midst of. Nothing but the occasional dead leaf moved (being victims of any passing gusts with no idea when the rushing wind would return or from what direction the next assault would take. Something to which right now Lantern could empathize with. It was not a pleasant sensation to be at the whim of another force potentially greater than your own.)

The garbled words he'd heard had not come from his communicator or from the Martian...it had to be the ' _ghost'_ speaking. What was new was that he'd understood some of it. _Barely._ Must be Batman's translator or his ring finally gearing up. There was also the possibility that the entity had cottoned on to the problem and was trying to slow itself down enough for him to understand it?  If so that would show consideration on the its part. Consideration meant at least some level of higher intelligence.

"Battery..." he started to answer the ghost's question, but didn't get to finish when his mysterious companion interrupted.

"..'.'s?..Harry'sGags?... ..?LosAngelas?..."

"..powered," Stewart finished his two-word answer before he'd even registered that the being had spoken again.  (So much for consideration from mystery manifestations; it was back to being far too fast to interpret even a single sentence.) Okay, so keeping the thing around by amusing it with his constructs was proving to be more fun than was reasonable, but its speed-warped manner of speech and sheer impatience was starting to give John a headache. "Fuck. Look, can you slow down some? I can barely understand more than a word or two."

There was a jumble of noise again.

Yeah, definitely a communications breakdown here.

Frustrated, Stewart glanced at the circlet on his finger.  Before encountering this turbo-charged ink spot, his ring had never taken this long to provide him with translations. If he thought it would help he'd take it off and kick it. ( _Truly, he would prefer to apply a boot to the entity, but that looked unlikely.)_ Maybe a judicious thump on the engraved insignia would encourage the piece of Oan tech to process its data faster?

"Ring, I really need that first contact information."

_[Unknown entity's velocity 8/10th light speed. Preliminary sound emanations too fast to decipher as yet. Please stand by while attempting to process. Last transmission was:_

_Bet you got it at Swinzer's Dime store. Nope. Bertrand's? Nope. Maybe Harry's Gags? Checked. No glowing green rings for sale anywhere in town. Bit bummed not local. Not Kansas either. Catalog store? Los Angelas? New York? Checking. Back. Nope to both. Bored. Previous transmission: Are you talking to me or to yourself or an invisible friend and is the ring battery powered or phosphorus?_

_Still processing preliminary transmissions. Alert: interrupted diagnostic completed: Carbon...Testosterone...Carbon Monoxide residues. entity shows elements of Sol III chemistry including high levels of testosterone relevant to that of an adolescent male of species Homo Sapien. Unknown element in nervous system possible velocity trigger.]_

Well, it was about time the thing spat out something for him to use! However, that was hardly the info John had been expecting. Not that Stewart had really known what to expect...but it definitely was not this.

_Oh._

The Green Lantern digested the unsavory information with a muttered curse. It looked like the 'entity' was neither an alien 'puppy' nor some intelligent menace on the order of a Brainiac--especially if it's sole reason for sticking around him was because it believed the most powerful weapon in the universe was some gag store trinket it thought could be purchased. No, what he had been tracking was a 'growing [human] male' who so far had not shown any inclination to try to take over the world.

The League was going to be disappointed. Stewart wasn't exactly thrilled either.

_A teenager? That's great. I hate dealing with hyperactive kids and this one appeared to be suffering from The Mother of An Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder.'_

Well, just another human rigged with a new high-tech gadget, a brand new species, or something in-between; there would still be reports to send out if only to justify the time already spent here.  If it was some device the kid was using to become a speedster then he'd also have to find out who it belonged to and who had created it.  Such a thing could be dangerous to The League if a villain got hold of one.

"Okay, Speedy Gonzales, can you-?"

But the blur was gone again, it's resultant wind wake nearly bowling him over.

Human or meta or some kind of Earth/alien mongrel mix, apparently John had taken too long getting back to making emerald toys for him.

_Great._

"A teen male...probably high on his new hormones and skipping eighth- grade History class." John mulled the problem over, his mind switching gears on what types of tactics to take now that he had more intel.

Maybe if he next formed a sports car? Most teenagers could not resist a sports car.

Static of an all-too-well known kind assaulted his ear.

"You've got a visual i.d. as a male human?" Batman inquired over their shared radio link.

The Lantern sighed. Distracted from putting some final accessories on his latest creation, he'd almost let the whole construct dissipate. John went about repairing the 'damage' as he explained:  "My ring managed a partial analysis when the being slowed down to talk to me. Until it can be confirmed otherwise, our mystery manifestation appears to be a child, Bat-"

Air blasted around Stewart _almost_ knocking him off balance.

The Red Wind Ghost had returned.

"You're-invisible-friend-is-a-child-bat? Guess-that's-cool. A-car? Can-you-make-the-bike-thing-again? So-where-can-I-buy-a-cool-ring-like-that? Nobody-in-the-Western hemisphere - _China!_ " The blur excitedly exclaimed as if he'd discovered the secret of Life. It took off again, heading towards the American west coast, the Pacific Ocean, and -presumably- John supposed, Chinese trinket factories.

Fantastic. How long would that take?  John had a arrogant League on hold and if there was anything close to this Central City Scarlet Sprite's level of impatience it was a gaggle of super-powered All-Star celebrities.

Still, _Mr. Zippy_ appeared to be slowing down a little once more. At least it _-he-_ did when he actually stopped.

Good. Maybe they could get somewhere now that John could catch more than mere snippets of sentences.

Or they could when Mr. Impulsive got back from his fruitless shopping trip to the Far East.

"You guys understand that?" John asked his absent peers.

The League founders each gave an affirmative over the comm line. It was a bit of a strain for all but Superman, but comprehensible if they concentrated.  They wanted more info.

No kidding?

Stewart was buffeted around a mere handful of seconds later. That was getting tiresome really fast.  With a small huff of annoyance he straightened up.  "Okay, kid--"

 

"Not-Made-In-China?" the returned blur announced with disbelief. "I-thought-I-read- _everything_ -was-being-made-in-China!"

"You can't buy a Green Lantern Corps ring," John told the blur. "You have to have it given to you."

"Aw!-Okay..So-can-you-give-me-one?"

"Too fast again."  (Not really, but John knew a bartering chip when it was held in front of him.)

"Sorry...Can..you..give.. me..a..ring..then?"

"No. It's not something that can be gotten from Earth. Now would you stop running everywhere?"

"But...it's...so-boring-you-takeforever!" the voice whined, beginning to speed up again.

_Oh, no, no, no. Do not revert back to hyper Red Wind Ghost speak!  
_

"Maybe so," a desperate John cut in "but it's distracting trying to keep upright when you run past me while at the same time I'm trying to listen to someone else talk."

"Sorry." It sounded honestly contrite about it too.

Okay, so one very hyper and (if a bit belatedly) _polite_ Red Wind Ghost. Well, learned manners were better late than never.

* * *

.

"J'onn?" Up in the Metro Tower's council room, Superman switched his attention from Green Lantern's long-distance report to the Martian sitting nearby. J'onzz was holding one hand pressed to his forehead and looked to be in a little bit of pain.

"I am fine, Superman," J'onn responded to the Kryptonian's worried question. "Merely trying to establish contact with the mystery entity in Central City. There is a whirl of mental activity around Lantern. It is akin to picking stray thoughts from a maelstrom. I am afraid that practically all I can make out is a lot of curiosity and excitement over Green Lantern's ring, but the words and slang I do catch match that of a human being. In addition, Green Lantern is somewhat distracted enough for me to detect his annoyance at our interruptions."  His lips formed an apologetic smile.  "I believe the human expression best suited for translation would be...'bug off'."

"Lantern is just going to have to be annoyed then. We need information on this person.  This is clearly something abnormal and we need to know how much and why in order to contain the situation should it escalate into a red alert."  A grim Kal-El made a small corralling gesture with his hands, all the while holding J'onn's eyes with his.  J'onn gave a tiny tilt of his head in acknowledgment of the unstated command to keep trying to form his own link with the new being without the Green Lantern being any the wiser as to what was transpiring. (Unlike with Stewart, Kal-El was rarely harsh with the Martian since J'onn was one of the two that the Kryptonian could safely partner with without injuring them.)

Meanwhile, Batman had narrowed his eyes at his data pad as if it had offended him somehow. "I agree. No human is capable of being that hyper-accelerated without some advanced mechanical aid or magic...at least, none which has ever been recorded before." Beside him, Superman winced at the word 'magic'. Kal-El hated mystical powers as it was one of his small handful of weaknesses. At times he swore that Batman took delight in the fact that the globally lauded _Super_ man could be subdued by some ancient words of mumbo jumbo as well as a chunk of glowing green rock.

* * *

.

(((-Lantern, what is it doing now?-)))

John was about to answer the inquiry transmitting from one ear when he heard an outside statement:

"Too-quiet. Bored! So-who-are-you-talking-to? Are-you-a-spy? I-bet-you're-a-spy! Bet-that's-why-can't-find-a-ring-it's-like-Dick-Tracy's-All-super-secret-spy-gear-stuff. FBI. C.I.A. Interpol? You-going-to-answer-soon? Sorry-trying-to-wait-but-bored! Why-does-everyone-have-to-be-so- _slow?_   Gotta-Run-Mister-Spy-Guy. Bye!"

"Wait! Damn it."  John growled in frustration at being ditched again.  He considered asking his ring to speed up his own speech as a compromise since the other seemed incapable of doing the opposite for any adequate length of time.  That wouldn't work any faster than he could think up words in his head, yet it still would be an improvement.  Still, it would be better for his quarry to learn some discipline and slow the hell down.  After all, the League was surely here first.  It was the newbie who should be trying to accommodate them.

(((-Lantern?-)))

_By the rings of Oa--Not now, Superman!_

"Ring, can you track his location?"

[...Negative.]

Was it his imagination or did the ring sound a bit peeved at its admission?

"Nothing?"

[The unique energy is currently too globally dispersed to pinpoint an exact location.]

So his quarry was engaged in some heavy-duty globe trotting.

Looking around and not seeing any sign of his impatient companion, Stewart pinched his nose, sighed, thwarted by having no idea why the kid had gone off to this time...or when he'd return.

Or if?

No.  John wasn't going to accept an 'if'.

 

* * *

.

"Lantern, report! What is going on?" Superman ground his teeth in frustration as a minute ticked by in silence. It was getting more and more tempting to just fly over there so that he could see exactly what was happening in Kansas rather than having to wait for John to tell him. The being was again speaking so fast that even he had difficulty catching more than a few words:  the unintelligible sections were an irritating sound not unlike those hypothetical mosquitoes trapped in a storm. Once they knew why it had arrived on Earth or by what means it had come to be here they could decide how to deal with it.  A threat to Earth was best handled in such a way that instilled confidence in the various governments that The Justice League was competent enough to keep humanity safe.  Any doubts and they'd have politicians breathing down their necks, military groups demanding access to their information systems.

Speaking of intelligence snooping...

A sour-faced Superman noted that this whole time Batman was just hovering over his electronic gizmo, grimacing as usual while keeping his distance from Diana. Probably had a transcript of the whole Midwestern encounter by now, but wasn't feeling like sharing, the smug, pointy-eared bastard. Shayera -predictably- was fretting over her lover while barely capping her desire to rush off after him. Diana -even more predictably- was eying Batman and probably thinking that nobody as yet knew of her recent obsession with the Dark Knight. (She was a fool for pursuing him and Kal-El would have told her this if he wasn't certain Miss Holier Than Thou would ignore his advice like she usually did because Superman was after all _'still just a male'_   and therefore less mature than an Amazon.  Never mind that he wasn't even human.  She seemed to have trouble accepting that every species endowed with a Y chromosome or its equivalent weren't cavemen out to enslave her one way or the other. Yet despite that bit of sexism, she wanted to develop relations Batman--a potential poster boy for troglodytes?

Batman was too smart to let Diana charm him into a relationship that was dangerous for a normal human; for Krypton's sake, physically she could break him in two even with the body armor!) Unfortunately, Diana never did realize when to let something go as witnessed by her 'friends with bonuses' relationship with Shayera even though Shayera clearly favored Stewart.

If Diana wasn't so pig-headed she'd see that a Princess endowed with the very strength of the earth and The Man of Steel were a good match for regular sexual relations.  After all, not like he'd punch a hole through her if he failed to pull out in time.

Superman repressed a snort of amusement at the direction of his latest thoughts.

_If the country that worshiped their heroes only knew what really went on in their heads._

Aquaman had just last month complained that the League wasn't so much a team of heroes as a loose association of mildly psychotic individualists with no higher calling than seeking out an audience and potential mates. Kal-El was beginning to think that maybe Aquaman was correct in that assessment. Of course, Arthur could talk seeing as he was happily coupled and nigh paparazzi-free with a wife and probably had a score of merwomen willing to be his concubines should Mera give him the cold shoulder. Kal-El, Diana, and J'onn only had each other for mutual tension release and they had to keep it under wraps lest naive minds everywhere complain about unseemly behavior and impressionable young minds.

So, yes, he was limited in options to two extra-curricular partners.

Even there, his relationship with Diana was strained by that superior sexist attitude of hers.  Hearing about how eons ago men were global scum just didn't make for great bedroom talk.

At least J'onn had the potential to shape shift and take any human partner he fancied--if the Martian ever grew more comfortable among the race that had at one point tried furthering interplanetary shared knowledge by _dissecting_ him.

Really, if Diana wanted to complain about narrow-minded cultures she needed to get in line behind him and J'onn.

.

"Lantern, are you there?"  Kal-El rubbed at his forehead, feeling at that moment less than so charitable towards his fellows.

(A slight hesitation as if John -like Batman- was also going to continue their trend towards hiding information.  So help him, Kal-El was having it up to _here_ with secret agendas.)

(((-Yes.-)))  Lantern sounded annoyed.  Like he had the sole right to feel ill used here.

"Good to know." Superman fairly growled.  "Anything _else_ that would be helpful to share with the group?"

Grudgingly, Stewart added, (((-Well there's this this to consider:  the sheer velocity is giving it fits, but my ring scans our _ghost_ as a teen-aged _human male_ ; however, it also detects a peculiarity in his nervous system that it doesn't recognize. Could be a genetic mutation. I don't think he's alien shapeshifter or a cyborg and he's not a robot. At least my ring doesn't detect any technology or power signature around other than his own bio-energy. Again, human and a male, but with some unknown element pervading him at a cellular level that seems responsible for his accelerated state.-)))

"And you were going to share this whe--?" Kal-El began to ask.

Batman rudely cut in again with "Can you scan him with the ring and send the image to J'onn?"

(((-I could if I can get him to stand relatively _still_ for a moment.-)))  John gave a low and sardonic laugh. (((-Don't hold your breath on that.  I...-)))

(((-I-can-too-stand-still. See?"-)))

(((-Oh my...-)))

.

The crimson blur had stopped it's forward rush, quickly coalescing into a solid biped before John's eyes. The end result was approximately six feet tall and wearing the _very_ shredded remains of a red "Keystone City" jogging top over a... Was that a wetsuit?Well, it was _something_ of iridescent scarlet that shimmered wherever the sunlight touched it. The suit included a cowl that wrapped over the head while leaving the cheeks, nose, and jaw areas open -most of that sporting a large, carefree grin. Yellow hi-impact goggles obscured the eyes. There were a few wisps of orange-tinted red strands dancing merrily over the amber-hued lenses, but with another blink the hair were gone, leaving John wondering if he had imagined seeing them.

Despite the odd metallic-gel shine of the body suit, the material appeared to be distantly related to spandex because it was hugging the toned physique like a painted-on glove, even more so than Stewart's own uniform did. There was a gold lightning bolt symbol on the chest rather than that of a Lantern, the same jagged 'lightning' design making a 'V' belt and encircling mid forearms like the top of long-sleeved gloves.  It was hard to tell if these accents were printed directly onto the material or were accessories because electrical discharges kept dancing around the figure like a myriad of fairy lovers, casting near-constant flickering yellow lights over pale skin and clothing alike.

"Oh my..." John nearly forgot to breathe.  The sight was...otherworldly.  Almost mystical.  Here was some offspring born of speed and storm gods come to Earth.

(A random thought came that he'd have to ask Wonder Woman if Hermes and Zeus got around in more ways than one.  Could the kid be either of their offspring?)

 Any fantasies about Olympians getting it on were impaled by an unpleasant onslaught of verbal dissonance:

Batman was practically yelling into his ear, the near continuous blasts finally earning at least a small part of his attention when Stewart discerned that a major part of them consisted of his title.

"Lantern! Can you get a scan?"

_A what now?_ John blinked, brain momentarily unable to process anything properly other than the lithe demi-god before him.

"Lantern!" Batman barked again with increasing exasperation. "Respond! Can you scan it?"

"Scan.... You want a picture?" Stewart muttered.

"Whoa-no-pics!" the scarlet speedster yelped.  A blur and like that the figure was gone as if he'd never been there at all.

"Damn it," John cursed once his mind was finally released from its momentary enthrallment. What was he, some damned rookie still tied into boot camp to have frozen like that? Now the apparition was gone and might not return at all because he was afraid of a camera.

_-A spooked ghost?-_

No, not a ghost...a _young humanoid male_. That had definitely been no specter. At least John sincerely hoped not since the occult was not his forte. His ring was pretty damned powerful, but it wasn't designed to be some sort of Ghostbuster containment system; or, for that matter, a holding pen for a godling.  However, things of flesh and blood--even superhuman ones?  Those he stood a chance of controlling. It was just a matter of capturing the guy first.  In this instance that was not obviously going to be easy.  Be that as it may, John had not been enlisted into the Corps for nothing. Where there was a _will_ , there was a way and John Stewart was known for never giving up.

Time to earn his Lantern pay.  So what that so far the Central City not-a-ghost had shown no inclination towards committing evil.  That strictly speaking a Green Lantern really didn't have a need to apprehend anyone whose biggest crime was surpassing local speed ordinances.

_-You never know, right?  Could be a classic case of a wolf in sheep's clothing.  I'm was just being pro-active.-  
_

Plus, there is the issue of cataloging an unknown for Guardian posterity and all that.

"Right.

In brightest day, in darkest night, no evil shall escape..." he wryly began to recite the Corps motto. _  
_

(((-John, you asshole, answer us!-)))

_-Hold that thought.  Lover Girl on the phone.-  
_

(Brash Shayera was never was one for refined words.  It was one of the things he liked about her.)

(((-John, if you don't answer right now I'm coming over and play nutcracker with your--!-)))

Most of the time.

Stewart knew his first conscious nod to duty should be lowering his shield enough to send the image he'd gotten to J'onn. Quite perversely, he realized his first _instinct_ had been to strengthen his shielding to prevent just that. Instinct continued to win out even now.

Why?

_He wanted that young Hermes wannabe for himself.  Pure and simple.  
_

Undoubtedly if the League was pissed at him before it was going to be doubly so in a moment.  Too fucking bad for them.

He tapped his earpiece.  "I'm here, Shay. Keep your feathers on."

* * *

 

By some miracle of Olympus, The Metro Tower Conference room was quiet for several minutes save for the odd clicks and hums commonly made by the surrounding human and alien technology.

Although still at the Nebraska/Kansas border, the Green Lantern had just sent over some blurry scans that he claimed were all that his ring had managed to capture of his encounter with his newest quarry. When Batman questioned this, Green Lantern had countered that his ring was getting low on power and was getting due for a recharge.  After getting a fruitless argument over Oan technology and limits, Batman had still not wanted to let the matter drop. (Diana stared intently at each 3-D image in turn as they rotated above the table. Really more akin to a series of a watercolor smudges than true photography the princess decided.)  Before Batman's own request was made, J'onn had offered to pull all the images directly from Stewart's mind in the hopes of creating a more detailed composite, but Stewart had tersely declined and raised his shielding even higher than he had it before...which according to the Martian was already pretty darned high. Stewart kept citing some regulation that as a representative of Oa's Guardians he-a Green Lantern veteran-wasn't allowed to give such access for security reasons. Batman still argued of course... vehemently in fact...over this. So was Superman when he could get a point in now and then. Stewart adamantly refused to budge on the matter even when 'faced' with the combined displeasure of The World's Finest , though, saying that the only way would be for him to contact Oa and get their permission and that could take a lot longer than it would for him to just get the kid and bring him in.

And so it went on....mindless testosterone-driven discord.

Diana fingered her Lasso of Truth in a thoughtful manner while she watched the two opposing sides go back and forth. Lantern, she knew even without the use of her lasso or his being in the same room, was lying through his teeth. She couldn't help but wonder why. Artemis knew her mother would simply recite that all men lied, but Diana had been around these males long enough to learn that the ability of fabricating half-truths and all out untruths ran pretty equally between the sexes.  Women were just better at being diplomatic about it just as they were better at being warriors, art, philosophy...

How _had_ the world of Men lasted this long?

Observing them with a smug air, her extraterrestrial sister, Shayera Hol, had merely crossed her arms knowing that when next she saw John she'd get the whole story out of him even if the others were stymied. Diana figured the Thanagarian probably would too. Shayera and John were smitten with each other even if they weren't exactly fervent monogamists. Both were promiscuous; although to be fair this was because they were mutually using sexual partners in a friendly 'game' of one-upmanship with the odd quality that they didn't seem to mind sharing each others - _conquests_ \- even if that appeared to The Princess to actually be equalizing the 'scorecard'.  Diana understood the spirit of competitiveness, but even she thought that all a bit mind-boggling strange:  if you allowed your challenger to catch up, how was it a proper competition?

A few grunts of discontent caught her attention.

Thank Athena, Bruce and Kal-El had both finally capitulated!  Even J'onn looked relieved.

Really, there wasn't much else they could do seeing as J'onzz could not get past an unwilling Green Lantern's shields without risking the Lantern's mind or his own.  As upset as Kal-El was with Stewart at the moment, nobody wanted the man hurt.  The best they could hope for was that J'onn might get something just before Stewart recharged his ring...when the Green Lantern's power was at its weakest (although Stewart was pretty much claiming he was near tapped out now.) As yet such a violation was not warranted against one of their own. True, the League were getting on each others nerves more and more of late; as of right at this moment, though, the stress of loneliness still outweighed that which was generated by their private squabbles. They would wait a bit longer rather than risk losing a member of the group. Still, it was obvious to Diana that the League was not going to last very long before it broke under the strain, but for now nobody wanted to be the one who did the actual breaking.

.

(((-You say he just vanished again?-)))  Diana asked over their communicators.  John had waited a minute or two for the speedster's return before admitting to the League that the stranger had vacated the premises.

Green Lantern glanced around the intersection before he answered Diana. The red blur and wind gusts that had previously heralded the presence of the speedster were still absent. This despite that he had been continuously trying to entice it back by making all sorts of constructs with his ring, from highly detailed ones to just plain geometric shapes. Hell, if it wasn't for the fact that a native might see them, he'd have tried some pornographic ones.

_-Wouldn't that just make the nightly news?  Not to mention send Superman into an apopleptic fit.-_

Stewart didn't relish the thought of having to spend a day or more in Keystone City, but it was starting to look like that was going to be his only option if he wanted to find and detain the kid; and make no mistake about it, Green Lantern wanted to be the one who did so. That was the real reason he'd declined letting the Martian into his mind. That momentary glimpse of the The Red Wind Ghost was his and his alone, like a private gift the kid had given to _John Stewart_... not to the League or even to 'a Green Lantern'...but to _John_. The more he thought about it, the more John found he really didn't want to share the image with anyone else. Not even his masters at Oa. Maybe not even Shayera.

This 'ghost' was his ghost or speedster or alien or whatever the kid turned out to be.

 

"He was taking off like that every few seconds," John explained to Diana, letting a bit of his disgust through when he added, "Kid always came back in less than a minute though. At least he did until _someone_ gave him the impression that I was planning to take his picture. Must be camera shy. Been five minutes and he still hasn't returned."

Wonder Woman tactfully suggested to him that "Five minutes is not a long time."

"Maybe not to us," Batman gruffly reminded her.

Superman voiced his agreement with Batman. "True, I can accomplish quite a lot in five minutes when I'm in a rush. Imagine having a week to do something rather than just one day."

"A... _week?"_ Shayera gasped. "Is he _that_ much faster?"

"Seven times?" their leader shrugged.  He'd been speaking of his own ability when maxed out on adrenaline and sunlight.  No one could be faster than him. "Unlikely...but he doesn't have to deal with the press, world leaders, or paperwork." Kal-El sighed.  At times it was debatable whether it was more wearying than a certain green rock.

"Or meetings." Batman huffed, throwing in his own two-cents.

They contemplated the scans again as if the secrets of the depicted would suddenly flare up in neatly arranged font.

"So while we sit up here on our asses the mystery boy is probably doing...what?" Shayera asked. She glanced at a world atlas that decorated the wall across from where Superman sat. "For that matter, where?"

At his seat, J'onn pressed a hand to his temple. "Everywhere. I am getting disjointed reports of miraculous things taking place over the North American continent. Fires being mysteriously put out, lost children suddenly appearing in their homes; a dangerous escaped felon standing in front of a crowded police squad room with no idea how he came to be there. Many diverse and global problems of varying magnitude are being resolved almost as soon as they are reported through their respective local police scanners."

As J'onzz spoke, Kal-El pushed a button that brought down a viewing screen from the ceiling. It was linked directly to those in the Monitor Womb. The screen displayed data that verified what J'onn was telepathically picking up from the life forms he could reach.

Batman lightly coughed, eyes on the screens.  "Kal, how much did you say you could accomplish in one _week_?"  Eyes narrowed, the Man of Steel didn't deign to answer.

"The speed it must be moving at..." Kal-El tapped a finger on the table "This can't be right."

_It was surely impossible to move that quickly._

"Great. So we're being upstaged by a super-swift, Superman?  Sounds like a regular one-being rescue force," Shayera played with a lock of her rust-red hair as she grimaced at the flow of information. "No wonder it's been slow around here. Maybe if this is an enemy, we should be more worried about his defeating us through _unabated ennui_ more than a direct attack?" She switched her fingers from the lock of hair to a feather tip and smirked. "At least he can't fly." She looked over to J'onn, sudden anxiety in her eyes. "Can he?" If the speed freak was fettered to the ground she and the others would still have a tactical advantage over a ground-bound speedster.  Even Batman had his various Batplanes and Bathelicopters.  If he/she/ _it_ could become airborne...?

Would the world even desire their help anymore?

"Based on what we've gleaned so far, that is doubtful," J'onn directed a soothing smile at her apprehensive expression. "It appears we may be able to retain _some_ job security."

Not happy at being teased, Shayera made a _'Don't screw with me!'_ face. "I wasn't being serious, J'onn," she tried rather unsuccessfully to deny her momentary qualm. "We're the premiere heroes here. Nobody could replace us." She sighed at the computer monitor's distinct lack of ongoing disasters that were in need of Justice League intervention.  (Unfortunately, there were currently no atmospheric or space mishaps in progress...that weren't being nipped in the bud in mere seconds.) "Not _totally."_

(((-Not totally-))) Stewart's voice agreed over the comlink. (((-I think he's running around looking for people to help and when he finds them he does just that...maybe out of altruism, but it could just as likely be from sheer boredom. He brought that word up more than once-)))  Lantern submitted. (((-In either case I'm guessing he's wearing a multi-band emergency services radio rigged onto him somewhere...probably incorporated into his goggles-)))  Stewart didn't add that from what he'd seen there weren't that many places the kid could be sequestering such a device on his person. In fact, he belatedly realized that he'd given out too much info.

Batman was quick to pounce on his slip.  "Goggles?"  His eyes shifted to the images still being displayed by the table's first projector.  None showed any clear details let alone something that could be identified as eye protection gear.

.

_Damn._

"Uh...yeah. Didn't I mention those?"

The Dark Knight's voice was as hard as stone. (((-No-)))

"Well, I have now."  John outwardly dismissed it while inwardly he cursed himself for not watching his tongue. If Batman got any more interested in his quarry it would get nasty; neither of them liked to give in to others.  "Likely the kid was on his way to check something else out when he spotted my green glow and added me to his itinerary. If he hadn't been so captivated by my Lantern ring, I doubt he would have noticed me at all unless I was about to get hit by a truck or had a cat stuck in a tree. By the way, the main TV news here has just decided on a common name for their local celebrity 'phenomena': _The Flash_. You know, like from a lightning storm?  I guess Red Wind Ghost' was too much of a mouthful for them."

.

_The Flash_ , Superman considered the name.  It didn't sound very imposing.  Then again it was the humans naming things with their own language.  He wondered what the being's own name was.  Was he human or alien?  Could it even be Earth was being graced another Kryptonian?  For all Kal-El knew, on Krypton he would be considered terribly slow.  Maybe...

Enough useless speculating.

"Keep trying to communicate with him again, Lantern," Kal-El advised. "Investigate in the area. It's obvious this... _Flash_...tends to stick around Keystone for a good part of the day. Most likely lives and works somewhere around there."

"Like Superman hangs around Metropolis and Batman around Gotham?" Diana shook her head in disgust. "Really, you males need to spread out more if you want to keep those secret identities secret." The two _males_ shot her baleful looks, but didn't argue against her comment. Anyway, Lantern was speaking again.

(((-The kid runs around the freaking world like a common man would take a short jog to his mailbox, Superman. He could hole up anywhere he wants to-))) Stewart couldn't help pointing out--and what a point it was.

Superman opened his mouth, but Batman was quicker with a response. A precise dance of his fingers brought up a map of Kansas and Missouri.  He zoomed in on a 100-mile radius of Keystone City.  Glowing lines, temporary in duration, but plentiful, crisscrossed the map in a grid-like pattern over cities, but much more erratically outside of them particularly towards the eastern side where they became a veritable knot of path lines.

"He could..." Batman allowed, "which makes his recurrent appearances at Keystone -even before you arrived there- all the more indicative that he considers it special in some way. Plus, refinements of the scanners seem to indicate the world-wide energy trails begin and end each day from Keystone. There's some minor blips during late evenings from the rural vicinity. The Flash at least sleeps somewhere near there. Possibly he has found refuge during the night hours in one of the natural caves in that area."

"Because _caves_ are where everyone gravitates to at the end of their shift," Shayera derided. "Even in the cities, aren't 'man-caves' a human male thing?  Must be that caveman ancestry kicking in."  She and Wonder Woman shared a quick glance of triumph.

"I said ' _possibly_ '. Look the adverb up in a dictionary if you forgot what it means," a miffed Dark Knight told her. "Regardless--cave or palace--a human needs to sleep.  "He pointed a finger at the map.  " _This_ one seems to favor taking a nap somewhere east of Keystone City, around midnight and starting up again shortly before daybreak and even sooner."

Kal-El eyed the map, noting the streaking path lines.  "You can pinpoint where he sleeps?"

"No...like a dog circling it's bed a few times beforehand the trail crisscrosses itself over a farm and woodland area to the east of you before it cuts off. There's too much activity to pinpoint exact coordinates when it truly stops.

Lantern, this Flash is not stupid. I suggest you treat him with considerably more caution than you have been."

.

John couldn't argue with that logic nor did he wish to.  "But he's nesting to the east? Don't suppose you can give me his general eating and social itinerary as well?  "He could almost feel Batman glaring at him over the vast miles between Metropolis and Keystone. It generated a tiny -and admittedly- pointless smile of victory: Bruce's glares were rendered impotent when the victim was a half of a continent away and unable to see them. In regards to League skirmishes, Gotham's Knight was not doing so hot today. Seemed a bit distracted, but who knew with the Bat.  "Right. You guys might as well leave this mission to me then. I'll keep in touch,"

Lantern signed off, not giving them a chance to argue.


	4. Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FYI: THIS IS AN UNFINISHED STORY I WANT TO SAVE, BUT CAN'T FIGURE OUT HOW TO KEEP AS A DRAFT WITHOUT POSTING. Seriously, don't read unless you are utterly bored. I'm horrendously slow when it comes to posting.

Chapter 3: Conference

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit work of fanfiction written for fun. The writer does not own any of the characters or places created by DC Universe or any other licensed product. Opening lyrics came from: Across This Great Divide as sung by Linkin Park.

.

.

 

 

 

>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _There was nothing in sight but memories left abandoned._
> 
> _There was nowhere to hide; the ashes fell like snow_
> 
> _And the ground caved in between where we were standing_
> 
> _And your voice was all I heard_
> 
> _That I get what I deserve..._

.

.

Chapter 3: Conference

.

"Well?" Superman eyed each of his companions.

"Well, _what?"_ Shayera acerbically grumbled. As interesting as the past hour had been, the Thanagarian didn't like that her friend was going to be absent for an indeterminate length of time. She and John had a date planned that evening and this Flash character had ruined it. Shayera didn't like rainchecks.  She didn't like rain period.  If water got past your feather oil and bogged you down it was unpleasant. John shouldn't have issued her such a check.  Sure, she could go out and find a one-night stand to counter Lantern's find or even spend the time gallivanting with Diana if she wanted...but Shayera just wasn't in the mood for any of that. She'd wanted John tonight, damn it!

The others ignored her smoldering demeanor as they continued their discussion about the upstart that had sprouted up in Nowhere, U.S.A.

 

"Could this be someone to induct into our little club, you mean?" Batman rammed in a desire for clarification before Kal-El or anyone else felt of a mind to comment further on Shayera's sour disposition. Last thing he wanted was a side trip into more pointless emotional displays generated by the alien equivalent of PMS. Or Irritable Alien Male Syndrome for that matter considering Kal-El's own shortened fuse? (Bruce Wayne spared a speculative glance towards Kal-El and J'onn J'onzz. Not that the Martian was acting particularly cranky of late...best to be prepared for it, though...make contingency plans.  However, Superman's edgy emotional state bore closer monitoring.)  Their eyes met and Kal-El frowned as if he knew what the other was thinking.

"Exactly." Superman rubbed at the bridge of his nose and wished there was such a thing as Superman aspirin; mentally commanding his own temper to dissipate was only accomplishing so much. "We should discuss it. Like reasonable beings."

Batman smirked a little even though he knew Superman's answer had not been aimed to answer his unvoiced thoughts on extraterrestrial capacities for ire. Still, he cataloged the possibility of IAMS for future consideration.

"Batman? Something you'd like to share with the rest of us?" Kal-El was now eying him like the Kryptonian was constipated and blamed The Dark Knight for it.

_Definitely_ for future consideration.

"Not at this time."

...

The group grew silent, passing seconds marked by the steady ticking of Shayera's burnished nails clawing upon the conference table's surface.

They'd talked before about one day adding to their number. Nothing serious though as doing so might compromise their secret identities as well as the League's carefully polished image with the public should the new hero prove to be sub par...or too honest for anybody's good. None of them wanted the Earth's population realizing that their powerful demigods were just as angst-ridden and needy as everyone else simply because some newbie candidly opened his big gob about something he shouldn't have. People liked their heroes clean-shaven and above reproach. One hint of their protectors having feet of clay would send the League's image crashing down in flames like so many celebrity idols before them. It wasn't pride (or so they told themselves) _it was practicality_. During an emergency, nobody needed a John or Jane Doe impeding them with some debate on: 'whether their course of action was the correct one and maybe the regular authorities knew better?'  Villains just didn't politely acquiesce to being put on hold while the U.N. debated policies and senators held referendums on the tolerance levels afforded vigilantes.

Superman tried his question again, albeit this time laced with more sarcasm. "Anyone else _-besides Batman-_ have a 'no comment'?"

Shayera lugubriously shrugged with her wings as an unspoken gesture of her thoughts on the matter.  John sure sounded serious enough and his prior 'catches' had been entertaining in the past; however, it was also true that less heroes mucking about the Tower meant more chances for her to whoop criminal ass. She was already miffed that this newbie had hoarded so many opportunities to utilize her prowess; plus, tonight had been John's turn to be the dominant partner. Nobody could make even her pinion feathers tingle like John when he was in full command mode: green-rimmed eyes watching her pelvic region with smoldering gaze as she peeled off those silly tight G.I. Joe briefs he'd gotten her last Valentine's...

Catching The Martian starting to turn his head in her direction, Shayera switched to imagining J'onzz in Looney Tunes speedos. He hastily looked away. Shayera smirked at his discomfiture. (Obviously, J'onn had forgotten that a good warrior knew how to turn her opponent's strength on it's head and it was his own fault for not keeping his mind from wandering where it didn't belong.)

Now, the newbie? Shayera shoved aside her displeasure long enough to consider that this Flash might be worth the current aggravation of doing without her partner for a day or two. As long as John was willing to share with her later and he proved worthy, she'd call their score cards even. "I say we wait until we can see him for ourselves."

_There.  No one could claim she wasn't magnanimous when she decided to be._

"A wise course of action would be to defer for now." Wonder Woman agreed. "We still don't know much about this...Flash. What if he is a threat? A...wolf in sheep's skin?" Themyscira taught that males were not to be trusted. Maybe it was just a side of her Amazon upbringing showing through, but until she got her lasso around this speedster and asked a few pertinent questions, it would be wise to treat the newcomer with extreme caution. "Can we afford to take risks with bringing in someone new?"

"Acquiring more knowledge before acting would be prudent." J'onn smoothly expressed his agreement. "What do we know of him other than that he's naive about the world and shy..."

J'onzz seemed to zone out, his form subtly loosing some of it's 'human' shape as his concentration went elsewhere.

Ignoring this, Superman turned his head towards The Martian Manhunter. "The hero part is obvious, but how do you peg him as shy, J'onn?" Kal-El discounted the unknown man's dislike for having his picture taken.  There were a lot of reasons for not liking having your image captured and they ranged from innocent to criminal.

J'onzz held up a clawed hand, indicating he was not available for more discourse.

_'Great...the orange lights were on, but The Martian wasn't giving out holiday treats,'_ Superman groused to himself.

"Have any of you ever heard of him before?" Batman asked in a tone that implied _'don't be stupid, Kal'_. He then began reciting theories while spearing each of the others with a cold stare, daring them to interrupt. "Consider this:  Unless he just appeared on Earth out of the blue, he's either been living in an insular environment, or simply did not previously care about world events. Nor did he exhibit any familiarity with other super heroes or he would have recognized Green Lantern. He's new to this velocity of his or we would have heard reports before now of such a being." The Martian seemed to flinch. Bruce paused long enough to determine that J'onn wasn't going to say anything before he continued. "The fact that he hasn't stuck around for a media statement means he's uncomfortable as yet about being seen by the very people he is so intent on helping. It is probable that Flash is not human." He's acting the part of a savior, yet shying away from them."

"My, that sounds familiar. Does that mean you're shy as well?" Diana teased. Batman glared back.

"Yes. Of cameras," he clarified. "I like my anonymity from the public...and the criminal elements.

"Apparently, so does he." Diana rejoined. "That's probably why he's shy too...of cameras, I mean," she added.

"There is a possibility that he veers from the limelight in order to mask criminal intent."

"First you point out similarities between Flash and your own behavior, then you imply that he's a...bad boy. Are you trying to tell us something?" Wonder Woman smirked in a knowing manner, eyelashes lowered to half mast over blue eyes. Beside her, Shayera snorted with suppressed laughter. The Amazon kept unswerving eyes on her quarry, but gave the Thanagarian a mild kick under the table.

Shayera was a good fighter and handy for lonely nights, but she wasn't distinctly...fascinating. Not like the male who shrouded himself in shadows.  Gods knew, Batman intrigued her. Athena seemed to have endowed him with wisdom for all that his spirit was housed in a male's body. Bruce was the most intelligent mortal she knew. Curiosity nibbled at her as to what he would be like in other areas than those encompassing cold facts, yet so far he refused to acknowledge her as more than a mere colleague. Of course he treated everyone this way and not just her. Still...it was something of a challenge and Diana _never_ backed down from a challenge.

Annoyed at Diana's recent attempts at flirtation, Batman turned back to his data screen. It baffled him somewhat on why a woman who was renowned for sagacity could show so little of it when it came to pursuing a lost cause. He was not interested; a vigilante could not afford to be entangled in a romance of any kind let alone with a lady who was strong enough to make small change from the giant penny in The Batcave...the hard way.

"In a city of thousands, with so many people carrying a cell phones with cameras, this individual is still fast enough to evade any impulsive attempt at being so easily photographed. If a picture was taken that he didn't wish he could simply snatch the camera away from the owner.  Yet in two weeks he has only stopped to talk with Lantern. Even now -with growing recognition- he is still avoiding publicity and human contact...except for his sudden desire to dally with Stewart."

"That we know of," Diana countered. "He might have stopped to 'chat' with others. Get to know them?"

"Bury their remains in the desert?" Shayera mused aloud.

"Overlooking the fact that the Flash has shown difficulty with speaking at a comprehensible speed, if you had a famous 'ghost' stop and talk to you with all the major media of the area offering monetary rewards for information, would you not tell someone of the event and try to cash in even without photographic evidence?  Nobody has done this."  He didn't even bother to dwell on Shayera's comment.

Diana looked away, miffed at his rebuttal. "Maybe such a person was not interested in acquiring prize money, but in other things that can't be kept in a safe box."

"Maybe he's just not interested -period." Batman retorted.

"Wow...the double speak is getting thick in here." Shayera leaned her chin against one curled hand.  "This is better than watching those snippy day-time shows with John. Are you two going to break out in fisticuffs, start throwing chairs, or suffocate each other with French kisses? Whichever you pick, can I join in?"

Both Wonder Woman and Batman glared at Shayera. She rolled her eyes at their mutual outrage. "It was just a question."

J'onn broke from what had been some sort of trance and imitated a cough to get their attention. "If I may be so bold as to interrupt?" He sounded a bit haggard.

"Must you?" Things were looking promising for a brawl. Shayera sighed then at the testy faces from the others made a little circular wave from the wrist. "Fine. Spoil the fun."

"Lantern has stated his thoughts that 'Flash' only showed himself now because curiosity about the Oa ring overpowered his desire to remain anonymous," J'onn continued. "I am inclined to agree. Call it an instinct...a...hunch. I do not believe Flash desires anyone harm. If he did then there would already be a wave of corpses around the Earth.  Yet despite the evidence of his goodwill something about this being feels disturbing and I don't know why. We should leave him be and desire he do the same with us."

"You were able to find his mind?" Superman asked.

J'onn winced. "In -as they say- a fashion. I am still able to discern.."

"You could not determine for a certainty that he was malevolent or not?" Superman pressed, rudely interrupting him.

"Not for certain, Kal-El. As stated previously, the newcomer thinks in patterns that I am not familiar with...there are layers rather than a main track. Think of your thoughts as being roads on a two-dimensional country plain, highways and smaller roads interconnecting at intervals. Now imagine a 3-D city with a vast array of transportation pathways stacked up into the air as well as upon the ground where traffic rules either do not apply or are summarily ignored."

Kal-El blinked. "You're suggesting we're Smallville Sunday drivers to this guy's New York City cab driver?"

"In a manner of speaking...yes...though Batman driving is a bit more...professional than that of a casual motorist and his windows are tinted past the legal limit in most states." Orange-colored eyes clouded a bit as he pressed a hand to his aching temple.  He addressed Batman. "I could wish you to teach this Flash your masking technique.  I find his mind....somewhat painful to brush against."

"Batman...your recommendation?" Shayera asked. "You really didn't say."

"Surprise, surprise," Kal-El muttered under his breath.

"We should not make any decisions on him sight unseen. And yet..." Bruce paused. "Superman's speed is indeed fast..." Batman allowed. "but this Flash's velocity appears to be much faster. Would it not be better to take him under our tutelage now while the slate is relatively clean rather than wait and have to counter any bad habits picked up on his own?"

"I thought you said he was a possible malefactor?" Shayera pointed out.

"Another reason to keep him where we can watch him closely." Batman allowed. "If he is shamming, we'll soon be able to tell."

"An initiate?" Kal-El asked in surprise.

Again the room fell silent for several heartbeats.

"You're actually voting for letting this Flash join us?" Wonder Woman blinked, then scowled because she now knew she had guessed wrong about his vote. For some reason, she found that very annoying even though part of her couldn't fathom why that should be. "You aren't known for your extroverted personality, Bruce, or your willingness to trust someone sight unseen. What did you find out from that gadget of yours that has you interested in this child as much as John is?"

Batman was spared having to reply when Stewart's signal beeped. Superman swiftly answered it before The Dark Knight could.

"Did you find something of importance, Lantern?" Kal-El asked.

 .

Down in Keystone City, The Green Lantern was encased in a bubble of energy that kept any passersby from hearing his words.   "Some. The kid's not a rocket scientist, but neither is he an idiot."  John scrolled through the info he'd managed to gather on his quarry...some good, some bad, much of it annoyingly incomplete.

Apparently, Kal-El was of like mind on his assessment. (((-That description is a bit broad. Care to narrow it down a little?-)))  Superman asked, clearly inviting elaboration.

John had wished his Chairman would just accept what dribbles he was given, but no such luck. "After I signed off I had an idea to check the local school records and hit the jackpot. One kid recently started taking community college courses. His name was not only without any ties to previous school records  _anywhere_ in North America, but there's no record of it in Immigration either. Unsurprisingly, his file's so suspicious that it's been flagged by the Department of Homeland Security for future investigation. They think he may be an illegal alien, but don't have the man power as yet to check that out. Case of bureaucracy gears being slow to turn."

.

"Aliens in America...imagine that," Shayera chuckled.

Batman shot her a look of disapproval as he addressed Stewart. "That was fast. Are you sure of your information?"

(((-Not everyone needs a secret-issue, super-mainframe calculator to know how to find things out, Batman.-)))  John smugly returned. (((-Sometimes all you need is a willing operator and the correct civic officials phone numbers.-)))  His voice sounded amused.  (((-Shayera, scratch another notch for me.-)))  The operator had not only been willing, but rather pretty.

"Name?" Batman grunted, choosing not to get baited this time.

(((-She was no one important.-)))

"Of the _speedster_ ," Bruce clarified with controlled acidity.

(((-I said I already checked it out. It's phony.-)))

_"Name?"_ the Dark Knight repeated with a bit more force.

Lantern relented. Bruce might be regular human on the grand scale of things, but he had a knack for sounding threatening and the resources to give those threats some weight. At any rate, the name really was fake so Batman wouldn't be able to make use of it anyway.

(((-Rudolph B. Allen. Don't know what the 'B' stands for.-)))

It was almost an imperceptible movement, but both J'onzz and Kal-El could tell that Bruce had gone rigid.

"Allen?" he barely breathed out.

"Batman?" the Kryptonian asked. Bruce gave a short, quick shake of his head to ward off any more questions.

"What classes is he taking?" If the Batman's continued demanding tone fazed Stewart at all, the Green Lantern's reply didn't betray it.

(((-Not that I can fathom your interest in that, but our little speed freak's just enrolled for courses in modern history, geography, social studies, and has already completed their basic mechanics studies despite only having started that three weeks ago. Anyway, the kid's name may have been pulled out of thin air, but his 'contact' reference is real enough because all students here need proof of local residency.

_Mr. Mason Tollbridge_ owns a small fix-it place. When I contacted him he acknowledged that he had just hired a young man as an apprentice. Tollbridge thinks his new employee is maybe 17 or 18 years of age. The owner was reluctant to admit that bit at first. He's paying the kid cash 'under-the-table' because he suspects Allen's under-aged for legally being allowed working a graveyard shift. I had to convince him I wasn't going to alert the local authorities and shut him down for giving a minor a break. In a bonus exchange for not busting him, he added this: they had a very quick interview during which a charming -yet obviously nervous- red-haired kid told the man his name was Allen and that he's twenty-one and from out of town...no living relatives. Needed night work as he had prior commitments during the day. Owner says that so far Allen has been very punctual and hard working for all that it's a bit of a pain to talk with him because...get this...they have to communicate via leaving notes. Kid claimed to be a mute.)))

Superman sighed. They hadn't even considered child labor laws coming up. What if the public objected to their having a minor in their ranks? Better to play it safe. "If he's under 18 and inexperienced then he can't join us."

(((-Who said anything about his _joining the League?-)))_ an irked Lantern wanted to know.

"It was just speculation." Kal-El cast a sideways glance at the quiet human who had returned to keying in information on his data pad...or whatever it was Batman was doing. Superman got the feeling that Bruce's mind was only half on whatever it was he was inputting. "Come back, give the data to Batman so we can keep an eye on him for the future."

(((-No...I want to stick around a bit longer-)))  John insisted.  (((-Corner him while he's at work. Get his real name and background-)))

Superman was not at all pleased by this. "You're wasting our time."

(((-Wasting?-)))

"We need you here to pull your weight. Vacation time is over, John."

"No."

Kal-El opened his mouth to rebuke Green Lantern, then realized the negation had not come from John Stewart...but from inside the conference room. Superman had to stop himself from gripping the edge of the table too hard as he slowly turned around so as to fully face Batman.

_"No?"_

"Let Lantern question him. It's not like there's something urgent for him to do here. We all know that it has been quiet."

"That's not the point..." Kal-El nearly hissed. While what Batman said was technically true, Kal-El didn't like having his orders countermanded like that. Superman narrowed his eyes, more convinced than ever that their more taciturn colleague knew more than he was letting on. "Batman...is there something _you_ know that should be shared with the group?"

"Not at this moment."

"Not at this _moment?"_ bitter sarcasm ran through their leader's attempt at mimicry. Superman managed to let his grip on the table relax, though he couldn't forebear rolling his eyes and feeling a bit of empathy with beleaguered school teachers everywhere. "I don't suppose you can jot in a particular _'moment'_ amidst your not-so-busy schedule that is open for communicating with us?  At least tell us why the name--"

"No."

_"Why?"_

Bruce tightened his mouth at Kal-El's sarcastic question and went back to studying his computer. The others shifted uncomfortably in their seats, not daring to stir things up further at this point.

"Right...later." Kal-El swore internally before again addressing Stewart. One of these days, he was going to turn Batman's data pad into a tiny, smoldering paperweight of melted plastic.

"You have 24 hours, Green Lantern," Superman grated out. "Then we need you back here."


	5. Ghost Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FYI: THIS IS AN UNFINISHED STORY I WANT TO SAVE, BUT CAN'T FIGURE OUT HOW TO KEEP AS A DRAFT WITHOUT POSTING. Seriously, don't read unless you are utterly bored. I'm horrendously slow when it comes to posting.

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit work of fanfiction written for fun. The writer does not own any of the characters or places created by DC Universe or any other licensed product. Lyrics from: Across This Great Divide as sung by Linkin Park.

* * *

.

 .

> So give me reason
> 
> To prove me wrong
> 
> To wash this memory clean.
> 
> Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes
> 
> Across this new divide

.

.

Chapter 4: Ghost Hunter

.

John Stewart flexed his wrist enough so as to be able to see the face of his precision digital/analog wristwatch peeking from beyond the sleeve of his army-green jacket.  The watch had been a going-away gift.  It was a favorite as he admired the craftsmanship that had been put into it.  Both the time piece and jacket were real artifacts from his marine days; mementos from that time before he knew of little blue aliens with the power to control planetary destinies and galactic political whatnot. They also better complimented the 'normal-type civilian' attire he'd been wearing for a good part of the day, an ensemble which included pressed canvas slacks and sturdy, but -meticulously polished- ankle-length shoes. (Even when wearing casual clothes, John hated appearing messy.)

The electronic digits cast an emerald glow into the autumn-chilled air:

.

  **23:58:09**

**.  
**

Almost twenty hours after breaking communication with The League and The Green Lantern of sector 2814 had yet to bust his 'ghost'. A whole twenty-four freaking hours to catch the fastest man alive and now he had just four remaining.

Who did Kal-El think he was, anyway, by giving him a time limit?  Would the world end if he took an extra three minutes to get the job done?

Speaking of time passing by...

John looked about him in the darkness. Nobody was around...and with one glaring exception, that fact was fine by him. He checking his watch again.

Wow. The second hand had _almost_ made a whole circuit since he'd last glanced at it.  Just when had he become this twitchy about having to wait a few minutes more? Maybe impatience was a communicable malady and that kid had passed it on to him? Still... it was less than a minute to closing time; or in this case: _show time_.

 

Despite it having been a very busy day, Stewart was wide awake; he was keeping alert mostly by imbibing undiluted coffee to boost the adrenaline that came from being on the hunt. These helped push any tiredness far away...if only for awhile. The lack of sleep had been worth it though. If all went well within the next few hours, his efforts would bear fruit.

_Red_ fruit...hopefully as juicy as it had looked yesterday and ripe for the picking.

Since he'd last contacted the League, The Green Lantern had 'seen' the Keystone speedster only once more and then for just a few seconds before the kid had taken off without so much as a hyperactive hello. Apparently, _'Allen'_ had been pretty busy as well and had not had any more time to spare for a green playmate. At least that was what John hoped was the reason and not that the kid had grown bored with him or thought Green Lantern was too dangerous to hang around for longer periods of time what with John being photo happy or something. (Thank you, _Batman_ , for suggesting that very thing when the kid was there to get wind of and roundly reject the idea of having his picture taken.)

The wind picked up a little, it's capricious movements a reminder of why he was currently freezing his bits off out here. Of course his ring could keep him warm, but it tended to turn him into a neon-green nightlight at the same time. That would be rather counterpoint to remaining undetected.

 

_C'mon...where was he?_

John couldn't help but glance at his watch yet again and was rewarded when all of the numbers decided to reconfigure at the same instant.

  .

**00:00:00**

**.  
**

Finally!  Midnight:  Shakespeare's vaunted witching hour. Hopefully The Bard was right and this was a portent to some sort of magic for the near future.

Spying movement in his peripheral vision, Stewart looked up from his watch to see that a slim figure wearing a ragged Keystone hoodie had appeared as if out of nowhere at the shop's back door. He had the hood up and was slouched over with his head tilted down like he was also hoping not to be noticed by any passersby.

Punctual, indeed.

Also extremely nervous. Every few seconds, the figure was tugging at his clothing and circling in place like he couldn't bear standing still. Was this usual behavior or had Flash discovered someone had been asking around about the particulars of one 'Rudolph B. Allen'?

The owner, the not-quite-law abiding Mr. Mason Tollbridge, opened the door to let the kid in. John could see them through the window, light-brown haired employer exchanging some paper with his fidgety employee; Tollbridge pointing things out here and there. The newcomer nodded at each gesture made. Tollbridge then said something that made the other jerk upright.

Damn...if that son of a bitch had given him away! John grit his teeth, preparing to storm in and try to contain the teen...somehow.

Tollbridge then made a reassuring gesture which seemed to calm the kid down several degrees so maybe the owner hadn't blown the whistle on John's investigation after all.

Both shook hands for an instant before Tollbridge grabbed his own trench coat and opened the door. They waved goodbye to the other. The kid locked the door and moved out of his stalker's view.

John waited until he was sure Tollbridge was truly gone before he strode around the building to the front door. Using his ring, he silently unlocked it and slipped in, cautiously making his way to the back room and keeping his power 'off'; again, so as not to give his presence away.  He'd need to nab the kid quickly, net the teen up nice and neat before he even knew what was what.

The door to the back workroom was ajar.

 

Something wasn't right.

It was as dark and silent inside the place as it had been out in the alleyway.  No noise created by an employee at work.  Nothing at all save for John's own breathing.

Inwardly cursing, John powered his ring and used it like a flashlight to search the room, wondering all the while if he was about to get knocked out by some faster-than-the-eye punches. His chin and gut remained untouched, however; the store room proved to be empty.

Well, not -empty- as such.

On the worktable were orderly stacks of repaired items, cleaned and glistening in the light from his ring. He stepped over to it. Next to the assorted machines and gadgets was a 'laundry list' of chores for that night. Each item was checked off...the checks matching the items on the table. Interestingly enough, the paper where the ink had been applied was showing indications of scorching. Possibly the pen's nib had been moved so quickly over the surface that the friction had nearly ignited the document?

Movement from above caught his attention. He aimed his ring's glow upward. It was just the light switch chain gently swaying over his head as if it had been used just moments before. That would probably be because it had been.

"Damn."

_What had he been thinking?_   He should have guessed his target would not be here the whole night. The kid was at least as fast as Superman and in all their encounters so far much more impatient.  Why would he choose to stay at the shop longer than absolutely necessary?

Even so...

In the space of four minutes, the kid had finished a night's worth of work, cleaned up, and left in one hell of a hurry.

Fantastic...and not in the good sense, albeit it was that as well. The kid's speed was incredible.  How was he keeping it up?  Was it a natural thing for him or some sort of alien tech even his ring didn't recognize?  What were the limits to it?  _Were_ there limits to it?

Stuff to contemplate after he had Allen in custody.  Right now he had to start the hunt all over again.

Why had Allen left, though? He risked Tollbridge returning to find everything done at an impossible rate. Had this to do with what he had witnessed through the store window when his target had arrived? Had Tollbridge indeed ratted him out and sent Flash running off God only knew where to escape a confrontation or a top-story news photo?

Did Tollbridge know or suspect that the kid wasn't normal?

Why would the kid be afraid of The Green Lantern when Flash had already demonstrated that he was more than capable of running rings around any Lantern, likely Superman as well, never-mind potentially even outrunning a camera's ability to capture light waves before the subject had moved to another time zone?

"Ring...can you tell me in which direction the meta went?"

_[Energy signature at twenty degrees north. Rapidly fading.]_

"He's gotten away," Stewart grumbled, mostly at himself for not...well, for not being Batman and thinking of every contingency a week before it became necessary. All day and night he had been listening for any alarms over the police scanners and it had been pretty quiet for the past hour locally and the past five minutes globally. There was no major emergency that should have sent the kid scurrying so fast out of that shop. At least, nothing that John knew of. Surely his quarry hadn't been in such a hurry just to get some shut eye? No, he must have been alerted that he was being hunted by the Justice League and had been impatient to get out of the shop...though not so much in a rush as to renege on his contract with the owner.

"Spooked. I'm going to maim that Tollbridge guy. Ring...anything new on the speeding meta?"

_[Signature dissipation pattern suggests waning power level rather than additional distance.]_

Well, that changed things quite a bit in his favor.

"In that case..." Stewart left the store, changed into his Green Lantern uniform, and took off into the sky, "keep tracking him. This isn't over yet."

* * *

 

_"Another_ fast food joint?"

**The 24 Hour Service**   **Kwik Eats!  Fast Service!** All shouted cheerfully at any potential consumers via the technical miracle of electrified neon trapped within cursive tubing.  The little, unassuming, _"We're Open!"_ painted sign looked downright superfluous in its spot by the entry doors with their cheap simulated chrome plating and cracked concrete threshold.

Was this some sort of trick? Some curious attempt to throw off pursuit? His ring trying to insinuate he'd missed dinner?

Initially the power ring had sent him on a course through most of Keystone in what Stewart recognized as a regular patrol pattern. That soon had suddenly switched to directing him at every fast-food purveyor in Keystone City's modest business district. If it sported a tacky neon icon of burgers and shakes his ring had unerringly veered towards it. Now the trail ended here at the one farthest from the night's sporadic traffic.

At least that was something.  John was even less in the mood for dealing with any civilian elements than he was before.

With a thought his Green Lantern suit disappeared to uncover his civilian clothes.

Quietly entered through the front doors, John was careful not to send the annoying little bell ringing that fact too loudly; for all intents and purposes just another guy going about his mundane business.   It was the same inconspicuous mode he'd spent most of the preceding day in while searching for as many facts about his quarry as he could. If the kid wanted to keep his presence quiet, so much more so did John.

 

It was late...after midnight was hardly the family hour...but the place was still opened for business if only for any truckers coming in from the interstate. Currently it held two prior patrons: one of whom was seated near to the front counter: grizzled and overweight. The man looked up at the newcomer who had stopped with one foot inside and his arm holding the door slightly open.  Apparently satisfied that John was a stranger, he grunted, then determinedly went back to chewing his hamburger.  Stewart readily dismissed that one as the seedy owner of the equally disreputable semi truck parked outside.  The other patron, however...

The other was an older teenager sitting huddled at table for two off to the side of the exit. Situated around the youth's feet were several carrying totes made of a sturdy synthetic-canvas material.

This diner didn't acknowledge the newest customer at all.

Maybe that was because the 'prime suspect' was devouring a large triple-cheese burger that was quickly dwindling in size as it was stuffed repeatedly into an eager mouth. His eyes were closed as if poetically contemplating the ecstasy that came with filling a formerly empty stomach.  He might as well have been a down-on-his-luck actor practicing an 'emotion' for some TV advertisement gig.

Clothes were different, but the behavior, height, skin shade and hair color fit the profile Lantern was looking for.

(Wanting to be absolutely certain, Stewart shifted his position over enough to get a better view while not relinquishing his position of blocking the main escape route.  He gave the sales clerk a wan smile, giving the impression that he was merely trying to assess whether his hunger was greater than his distrust on how well this eatery had done on it's last health inspection.  The clerk was apparently used to such misgivings as he was summarily ignored.  So much for customer service.)

The target had switched the denim hoodie for an over-sized bomber's jacket that looked well used. Faded jeans and ragged running shoes showed more than a fair amount of holes. The bomber jacket was bulky and ill-fitting, but on the side of being too large rather than too tight; it failed to fully hide the slim build underneath it or the stained, green button-down that was missing a fastener or three.

Either the kid favored the 'grunge' look or he was having some difficulty keeping his wardrobe selection in good order. Not that this was totally a bad thing for Green Lantern since where the cotton shirt fell open, John could see little hints of something that shone a metallic red.

'General, we have confirmation of our target.' John thought with satisfaction. 'Moving in.'

He walked further inside.

The trucker eyed John as he moved, then slid his gaze over towards where his truck was visibly parked.  Probably wondering if John was some sort of undercover cop and if his plates and paperwork were all in order; not  knowing that John could care less right now if the man was an unlicensed smuggler or not.

No, his true quarry's hair was reddish-orange, heavy on the red with a bit more orange to it than was common among humans, yet it appeared to be natural and not dyed as it sparkled with hints of cadmium and Persian red where the fluorescent lighting hit it. He wore it slightly parted to one side and of a length just brushing his shoulders.

Messy and wild.  To his eyes John was of the opinion this carroty mop was a bit in need of a barber's expertise. Where it wasn't exactly to the point where Stewart would the consider the hair's length 'wild man-esque', it definitely could stand a bit of a style and trim job.

Despite this the kid still looked....really good.

The clerk was really eying him now.

Contrastingly, the teen was still enclosed in his own world of junk food bliss.

Not wanting to arouse suspicion, Stewart strode to the cash register and pretended to be considering what to order. He made sure to keep his target in his peripheral vision, though, ready to act as quickly as he could.

So maybe Allen had just worked himself up a bear of an appetite and John had worried for nothing about Tollbridge leaking info? Even so, best to keep his guard up and potential gossip down.

Once the burger was gone, the teen glanced around then dropped the used wrapper into one of the bags. (Making John tense.) He reached into it's neighbor...and pulled out another wrapped burger which then shared the same fate as its predecessor.  (John relaxed.)

Didn't look like _Flash_ was going to leave just yet; though as he'd earlier learned at the shop...it was best not to assume anything. John would have preferred catching the speedster someplace absolutely private, but there might be an advantage to a slightly more public face-off if Allen was as reluctant to reveal his secret as he seemed to be.  If he could haul the kid away without it being obviously _The Green Lantern Hauling Someone Away_   with a questioning public wanting the story...then so much the better.

_Mission plan:  Act casual.  Get in close.  Leave quietly and in possession.  No fuss.  No muss.  No paparazzi._

Grabbing a candy bar from it's poster-board shipper box next to the register, John tossed the clerk a large enough bill to cover the charge while holding up a palm to indicate that any change was not needed.

The clerk eyed him, glanced over to where the redhead was sitting and leered at John while pocketing the extra money rather than placing it in the till.  He made a swift and very lewd hand gesture that left nothing to the imagination before half turning back to his 'work'.

Cute.  He'd have to remember to tip off the local police about a potential child molester or at least someone who aided and abetted them.

 

Grimly, John took up his purchase and walked up behind the kid. He peeked into one of the bags. There were more fast food items inside...with a variety of local restaurant symbols on the wrappers. It looked to be enough to feed eight really hungry people. Perhaps he was stocking up for the next few days?

Or maybe not. _Rudolph_ _the Red_ there was still grabbing burgers and going at it like he was famished.

Stewart eased himself down at the same table; taking up the spare seat without so much as a 'by-your-leave' or 'do you mind?', he leaned forward on the plastic chair and casually asked, "Hard day on the job, Allen?"

Instantly the figure stopped his attempt to let fast food live up to its name. Wide, startled eyes of jade stared at him in astonishment as the younger man swallowed noisily. He seemed embarrassed at being caught flat footed in such a position: pale cheeks and ear tips flushed with just quite a bit of extra blood.

 

(Stewart could see why the owner had been reluctant to hire this man-child and why the clerk thought he was a perv...the teen did appear like he was a lot closer to 17 years of age than the touted 21. Did that peach-fuzz jaw even know what it was like to get up close and personal with a shaver?

_Was Rudolph legal?)_

 

'Damn, but he's even more attractive like this.  Not classical gorgeous or anything overly dramatic like some glamor-magazine model; still, not bad looking. Not bad at all. Even the stark 'I'm greener than the grass' air of bewilderment was oddly appealing. Definitely a change over self-assured Shayera with her 'come-and-try-it' forest-green gazes and innuendo-laden challenges.

Flash possessed almost the same eye coloring as his Thanagarian team mate/lover....Of course, John was rather biased towards the color green.  The hair was also like Shayera's...maybe just a touch more brilliant with it's metallic highlight.

Huh...no wonder he was attracted to the kid. Maybe he should check for wings?

_I can't wait to see how he'll look with a trim and in flattering attire._

_...._

_Please be legal._

_._

As much as John wanted to enjoy the deer-caught-in-headlights look because it (well, it was downright adorable) Lantern had realized in advance that he wouldn't have time for such a luxury if he wanted to stop Allen from escaping. Bearing this in mind, Stewart quickly had his ring powering up from under their table with the idea of creating handcuffs with a chain lead. In that moment between thinking about his ring and it's becoming energized, John could have sworn he saw the (frightened? wary?) teen's eyes glance down for a split second before returning to their predator/prey staring contest. Red's jaw tightened around the mouthful of food, neither chewing or swallowing.

_Scratch that._

_Was there a slight quiver along the jaw?  A repeated micro-motion reverberating downwards through the kid's body?_

 

Could 'Rudolph-or-whatever-his-real-name-was' sense the energy output of a Lantern ring?

Was he reacting to it's power?

What was he planning to do?  Run?  Fight?  Faint?

Damn it, John had hoped to do this under the radar of the locals. If the kid tried to bolt or fight him off, it would cause one hell of a scene sure to alert the Keystone authorities and the media: the last thing he wanted short of the League dropping in to 'assist him' was a publicity circus around what he considered a private matter. John mentally pictured something that might trip up the speed freak should it be necessary; a construct to give him time to knock Allen unconscious, hog-tie him...something that would work. He'd also need a cover story for the onlookers as to why The Green Lantern was taking someone into custody who hadn't been seen committing a crime. Undercover cop was truth enough. Let them speculate on the rest. Superman's word could smooth over just about anything with his fans in high places.

His ideas of counter moves all proved to be unnecessary.

Instead of trying to escape from him, the boy's expression morphed from surprised/wary into one of delight. Next thing he knew Lantern was receiving light whacks on his shoulder. Nothing that hurt...just...the kind of contact an exuberant friend might give after being reunited with someone he thought never to see again. Mouth opened in what seemed be silent laughter, Allen fished a pen out of his jacket pocket along with a 3x5 notepad and quickly jotted something down. Still grinning, he then turned it around so that John could see what he'd written. There was quite a bit for the small surface: crammed, miniature letters barely fitted on the piece of lined paper. For all his intent not to let his guard down until he had the kid in hand, it was all John could do not to chuckle as he read the message.

 .

> _-It's you! Mason said a man and I thought 'maybe' but wasn't sure, but it is you! The man with the fun things made of weird emerald light. Were you looking for me all day? How did you know it was me? Does this mean I can have a ring like yours?-_
> 
> _._

"God...even when writing you're going too fast."

Those cheeks were blushing again.  Lantern of Oa, this youth was enchanting with his open-faced demeanor. Like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting.  You could read his emotions just as surely as if they were branded on his face. John swallowed, imagining that same visage held firmly between his hands--writhing body under John's more controlled motions--captured during the moment of his orgasm.

As yet blithely unaware of Stewart's carnal designs on him, Allen shrugged, a jerky motion of his shoulders. Taking back the paper, he turned it over...then again pushed it towards John for him to read.

 .

> _-Sorry-_
> 
> _._

John hadn't even seen him start to write the word down.

"Why didn't you stay longer with me this morning?"

Again, the scrap of paper was appropriated and returned. Under the single word was added:

 .

> _-Too much to do. Do I get a ring?-_
> 
> _._

The missive was nudged right back unchanged.

"I know you're not really a mute, kid." John quietly told him.  "You can talk to me without resorting to these little pieces of fool scrap. You did before." Allen shook his head, gazing around uneasily, the apprehension naked in his eyes. "You're afraid to talk aloud to me?" A lopsided nod that John took to mean...'kind of'. "Yet not afraid of me specifically?" John surmised. A truncated shake of the head was Allen's response.

Wasn't afraid of The Green Lantern then.

"Concerned because someone might guess if they overhear?" Another nod, straight and quick. Yes, then, to that one. But Stewart was beginning to emphasize with the skittish speedster: this was going far too slowly and he had a lot of questions wanting answers while time was running short.  Louder, he declared "Then let's go someplace where we can talk more freely...my hotel room should work fine."

Looking reluctant, Allen nodded again. They stood up; Allen reaching for his bags. John beat him to it, a feat surely only made possible in that Flash was trying hard not to give away that he was more than human. The boy looked a bit discomfited for not being able to risk his speed in such a 'public' place and stop his purchases from being taken up by the older man. He whipped out his pad again, hastily scrawling down three words before holding it out towards Stewart, his breathing a series of quick bursts:

 .

> _-NEED MY BAGS!-_
> 
>  .

"Relax."  He slipped back into a low whisper, "I'm not going to steal them. Not really into this kind of cuisine anyway; but these things of yours are my only assurance you aren't going to take off and leave me alone again." John tried reassuring him with an easy-going smile. "Trust me." The kid scowled, licked his lips, darted a glance at the truck driver (who was studiously ignoring them), the clerk (who was openly smirking at them--John repeated to himself his vow to have that guy investigated), then nodded to himself in rapid succession. Granting John a patently _polite_ smile in return, he crumbled up the note in a clenched fist. There was no mistaking that Allen was clearly unhappy about this turn of events; yet had apparently decided to yield to John on the matter rather than risk gaining unwanted attention--even intervention--from the other diner or the clerk.

Perfect.

Once safely at the back alley behind the restaurant, John checked to make sure there were no observers before willing his work uniform back on. (Desire for anonymity or not, a flying man in street duds would cause even more of a ruckus than a flying super hero would.) His Lantern uniform dutifully formed around him while Allen watched the process with rapt interest, eyes alight with awe as if John was demonstrating a sneak preview for the newest, hottest, video game ever. Stewart then encompassed his companion in an opaque ball of energy for transport to his hotel.

This trick was not nearly so well accepted by his companion.

The ball immediately began to vibrate at an alarming rate. So much so that the Green Lantern maintaining it could actually feel the backlash of repeated blows through his construct. If the attack didn't stop within seconds Allen would burst through.

Damn it...he should have given Allen warning about what he was going to do. Now he'd undoubtedly outright scared the kid into a full-blown panic.

"Calm down! I just didn't think you wanted to risk being seen with me while I'm dressed like this." A fairly lame excuse, but hopefully Allen wouldn't question it.

The vibrations slowed.

"I'll let you chase the green bike if you relax."

Utter stillness.

"Well, now I know what to get you for Christmas." Stewart muttered both pleased and a bit annoyed.

Guardians of Oa!  Even when he wasn't here, Batman was managing to horn in on John's action.


	6. Hospitality

Chapter 5: Hospitality

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit work of fanfiction written for fun. The writer does not own any of the characters or places created by DC Universe or any other licensed product. Lyrics from: Across This Great Divide as sung by Linkin Park.

.

.

 

 

>  
> 
> _In every loss_
> 
> _In every lie_
> 
> _In every truth that you'd deny_
> 
> _And each regret_
> 
> _And each goodbye_
> 
> _Was a mistake to great to hide_
> 
> _And your voice was all I heard_
> 
> _That I get what I deserve..._

.

.

Chapter 5: Hospitality

 

His watch warned him it was now 00:47...a quarter of an hour since he'd entered Tollbridge's shop only to find the hunt prolonged. Even though that detour had still turned out well, this left roughly only three hours and 13 minutes to become a stranger's best friend.  After that Green Lantern knew he'd have The League breathing down his neck once more.  Superman, if anything, was a 'man _'_ of his word.

_'Huh...well, nobody ever accused me of accepting only easy assignments even if this was one I've chosen for himself.'_

Stewart considered his options, glowing eyes alert for potential trouble as he gazed towards the Northeast. It would have been a simple matter to fly directly to the Metro Tower instead of his Kansan hotel room. Allen wouldn't know he'd been tricked until it was too late and found he was a 'guest' of The League's hospitality. Additionally, wouldn't his arriving early make the surprised look on Kal-El's face something to see? It certainly would make for one old-fashioned _Kodak Moment_ ; John almost grinned at the thought.

Well, no; frankly, Stewart didn't want to risk going that route. A surly Kryptonian he could live with.  What John wanted was for Allen to trust him. Most importantly, he wanted the kid to trust him more than any of the other Tower residents. _Green Lantern_ was going to be the one Allen went to rather than Kal-El, J'onzz, Wayne, Arthur, Diana, or Shay when he needed comfort or to talk.  Or anything _else_.  Obviously, John wouldn't accomplish that by getting on the teen's shit list before they'd even been properly introduced.

.

As he approached the hotel from above, Lantern took pains not to be seen by the populace. That wasn't a terribly hard objective to accomplish as there were no pedestrians here at this hour what with all the nearby establishments having closed up long before; The city of Keystone was pretty dead...most traffic preferred the more economically sound major cities with their Open 24-hour avenues of entertainment to a small, run down communities that rolled up the sidewalks each night. Furthermore, Stewart had purposefully chosen a place to stay for the duration of his investigation that was on the edge of town and saw even _less_ (legal or otherwise) traffic; so he was pretty confident that flying through the open window of his rented space with a man-sized ball of glowing green energy in tow would go unnoticed. Hell, if it had been, he could always claim the witness had been drunk or under some other kind of chemical stupidity. At the worst, he'd fall back on the generic 'League Business/questioning a potential witness' back-up story.  Nobody liked to question the League on such activity...at least not within the hearing of an ultra-powerful League member.

(The problem were those few reporters who _didn't_ have a problem with stirring up trouble.)

Once inside the room, John set the canvas totes down and...without a moment's hesitation in consideration of private property rights...inventoried the contents. (Well, perhaps a small pause...because it was a violation:  the kid wasn't under arrest or suspicion of criminal activity or anything, and he...oh, heck, he was a police officer, wasn't he? More than that...he was a _galactic Corps member_ and thus held the right of search and seizure wherever and whenever he deemed such actions necessary for the good of the universe. Green Lanterns didn't need some warrant in order to do at least the first half of a search and seizure. Just how the stuff the kid considered precious to him fell under "I needed to rifle through this for the good of the universe"?

Err...

Yes, he'd figure that part out later.

The kid's bags were surprisingly organized, and, as his ring confirmed, free of booby traps; given the kid's unkempt appearance he'd expected a tossed-together mess. Burgers in one, some empty food containers and wraps in another, assorted drink containers brimming with artificially-sweetened strawberry malts in the third, and school books in the fourth... alphabetized by subject and title yet.

Huh... and Shayera thought -he- was anal retentive.

Okay, so the kid wasn't a slob despite his appearance even if he was seriously heading towards severe malnourishment if this junk was any example his main food choices. Good to know about the former as John hated disorganization of any kind (sanitizing his hotel room had been the first thing he'd done upon getting the keys for it.) Yet more satisfying than discovering Allen was a neat-nick was finding a pair of ultra-thin, lightweight yellow boots and impact-resistant goggles under some textbooks. They were of an advanced material meant to withstand extreme duress...products that Stewart was fairly sure were not something he'd find in some sporting goods store any more than a real Green Lantern ring would be at a party shop. They were also unequivocally the same gear that 'Flash' had been wearing while running around attempting to single-handily save the dregs of mankind.  It was enough to make feel all puffed up with satisfaction.

_'Get that grin off your face, Lantern!'_ his inner drill sergeant scolded. Instinctively, John's smile slipped towards oblivion. _  
_

Or not.  He had his prize.  Why not revel in some small self congratulation over it?

_Because you don't know how long you got before your prize starts getting antsy._

Which was very true.

Additional quick scans with his ring verified that the food tote contained your average, run-of-the-grease-meal junk food as served in 'advanced' countries everywhere. It could find no traces of drugs or consumable poisons not approved by the FDA. Nothing alien or Star Lab certified and utter zilch that would cause a human being to be able to go from a flat start to 800mph in a split second.

A couple of whacks against his shield alerted him that his 'guest' was indeed getting impatient. John quickly put Allen's things back as they'd been. (He might have the right of search, yes, but a bit of tactful stealth caused so much less headaches.)

Stepping aside John let the kid free...but not without first putting the tote full of food inside another construct for safe keeping. Sure, he'd also promised the kid he'd get them back...but he hadn't said a damned thing about getting them all at once, had he?

The red blur of the Flash zipped over to his bags faster than John could blink or an assortment of frayed clothing could hit the carpet. Stewart caught a quick flutter ripple from the bag holding the books and odd hero wear. Beat up sneakers were suddenly lying beside the totes. Now fully outfitted in just his scarlet speed suit, Allen then ran around the apartment. Everything that wasn't tied down went flying.  John just barely kept two table lamps from becoming victims of Allen's sudden burst of frenetic activity. The frazzled youth stopped in front of Stewart, eyes wild and a bit unfocused behind the goggle lenses.

"Where-is-it-where-is-it-where-is-it-whereisitwherewherehwhereWhere?"

"Allen, remember what I said about slow-" the blur was traversing the entire hotel room again.

"Can't-gotgotGOT-to-find-it!" There was a weird, high pitched sound like a groan set to an abnormally high pitch. Allen became visible...if anything looking even more disheveled. His eyes fell on the glowing safe box sitting on the floor next to Lantern. Gasping, he lurched towards it at a speed twenty-times normal, but fell against a green barrier that knocked him sprawled into a breakfast table chair.  He grabbed the backrest and right himself.

Allen snatched off his goggles. "What-was-that-for?" Naturally green-colored eyes locked with Stewart's artificially glowing-emerald ones. He did not look even remotely happy.  Not angry so much as frustrated.

But he did look cute.

"-ing down?" John lamely finished his sentence. "Hotel rules...no running inside the premises."

"But-running-is-faster." Allen pouted at what he apparently thought was an asinine and unfair injunction against speedsters. Still, he stayed put on the chair. His mouth? That was another matter.  It was quite happy to continue running.

"I-was-careful. Didn't-create-too-much-vibrational-resonance.  I-know-all-about-vibrations-and-what-they-can-do-so-I-was-careful-nobody-got-hurt-You're-not-hurt-I-know-nobody-got-hurt-so-you-aren't-angry-right?-You-can't-be-angry-because-I-was-only-looking-for-my-stuff-It's-important-so-you-aren't-angry-but-then-why-the-repulsor-field?  Is-it-in-there?" He toed the glowing construct like a frustrated and recently bitten feline would have pawed at the last sighted appearance of an escaping mouse.

"Your food bag?"

"Yes! The-one-you-weren't-going-to-steal?" Allen must have thrown a bit of a tantrum, because where he looked like he hadn't otherwise moved...his hair was now severely mussed up more than ever.  "You-said!-Why-do-thisifyousaid!"

Gods of Orion, but he looked cute.

"I haven't..." John pursed his lips. "Look, your foodstuff is safe enough for now, all right? But it's still my insurance you won't leave in a rush. Besides, you shouldn't eat so much at once. You'll make yourself sick."

"But-I-won't-get-sick!"

"No buts and lower your voice before you start to annoy the neighbors if you haven't already."  His admonition must have sunk into the redhead for he tilted his head down and quietly picked at a seam on his boots.

"I'm-not-sick." He muttered, shoulders drooping. "Are-the-neighbors-angry?"

John scoffed at Allen's denial on the state of his health; everyone got sick now and then and fast food was not exactly healthy fare to begin with. "Now...slow down, get back into your regular clothes and start acting like the mannered person I think is hiding inside you and trying to get out...and for the love of Oa sit down." He indicated the chair Allen had just risen out of at some point while he'd been talking and was looking out the window, shirt half-way off. Silently, Allen placed his suddenly neatly folded 'hero' clothing in one of his totes, the goggled on top. He didn't let go of the last, but stood there, fiddling with the strap and looking conflicted as to whether to obey his host's every request or not. _"Sit."_ John repeated his demand using his strongest Green Lantern-Is-In-Command-Here tone. With a huge put-out sigh, Allen zipped back to the indicated dining set and sat.

_'Two changes of clothing and I missed getting a view both times?'_ Stewart inwardly groused. Lady Luck owed him big time.  "You want some water?" John asked aloud. (He had beer and soda as well, but this kid was hyped enough as it was.  Kid might actually explode if he got a can of caffeine in his system.)

The teen cautiously nodded his acceptance of the offer, mouth twitching from the want to say something, but staying blessedly closed if held in a firm straight line. John poured the glowering man a glass from the tap while he tried to think of how to diffuse the situation. So much for being friendly; could he help it he had a naturally gruff personality and his line of work didn't require anything more courteous? That's why when it came to diplomatic relations The League sent Superman and Diana.  Well, he'd better help it or the kid was going to leave.

Best start with those belated introductions.

.

"So..." John grabbed a santized glass and a chipped mug from hotel's courtesy tray and filled one with water and the other with lousy, but strong, black coffee.  One of the four complimentary packs of sugar went into his drink.  The other three he swept up and held them between his hand and the mug's handle.  Green eyes watched his every move like a hawk.  "Your name is Rudolph B. Allen?"

Allen's face scrunched in confusion. "You-already-knew-that."

John placed the safe glass of water onto the small, round table before sitting down on the opposite chair with his own mug of coffee firmly in hand. "Yeah...just like I know it's fake."

"Thank-you," Allen scooted the filled glass closer to him as if he was afraid his host would change his mind and take it away like his food. "May I have some sugar with it?" he asked with a lilt of hope.

"No."

"That's-not-fair".

"I'm with law enforcement.  Don't argue with me about what is fair, kid, because the law is my job."

"Your'e-police?!" Allen startled cry made John's ears hurt.

"Higher authority than that.My authorized jurisdiction, my room, my sugar, my rules.  Live with it."

"Okay."  The teen looked rattled.  Like John had pulled the rug out from under his feet.  If Stewart didn't know for a fact that there wasn't a rap sheet with the kid's photo attached to it...  Allen took a cautious sip of his water, clearly thinking situation  over.   "Your rules."

"Good.  That's settled.  Now about that fake name?"

"How-can-it-be-fake-if-it's-what-I-want-to-be-called?" the red head quickly rejoined. His tone regained some of it's sulkiness, but his face declared he was genuinely puzzled that using an alias was a problem.

Damn it...that argument actually made a strange sort of sense. All the same...

"Using a phony name is fine in certain circumstances like while on an internet chat group. But there are regulations about this when you sign legal documents--like those community college admission papers all with 'Rudolph B. Allen' printed on them. You do know it's a crime to falsify records?" John looked down disapprovingly at the kid. He indicated his uniform. "By law, I could arrest you right now. Not that I am going to do that," he hastened to add when the kid went a couple of shades paler. "However, the local authorities here are suspicious because of your dishonest school records. You could be in deep trouble when they come looking for you. Not all humans like metas. It's lucky for you I found you first."

The kid fidgeted in his seat, nearly hyperventilating. "I'm-sorry-didn't,-But Unc...I'm-confused." Allen coughed; took the glass and downed the contents in one go before rattling off, "But-it's-supposed-to-be-okay-for-super-heroes-to-change-names-and-stuff -speaking-of, is-that-green-glow-around-you-part-of-the-ring-or-what? Like-Superman-doesn't-have-to-schedule-a-flight-plan-when-he-zooms-around, while-Wonder-Woman-can-flout-dress-codes-when-she-goes-into-posh-restaurants (doesn't she get cold being exposed so much like that?) and-The-Batman (really neat cave of his-by-the-way; wish I-had-that-Dinosaur) isn't-exactly-with-the-police either-and-doesn't-he-trespass-onto-personal-property-when-he-goes-after-crooks? Anyway, I-doubt-Superman,-Wonder-Woman,-and-The-Batman,-or-this-man-named-Green-Lantern-whom-Mason-mentioned-was-possibly-stalking-me (fun guy as he is) have-all - _their_ \- legal-documents-stating--"

John held up his hands in surrender. "Okay...I concede your point about superheroes being granted more leeway, but my argument still stands that others might not grant you the same privilege." He reverted to his civilian clothing then held out his hand.

"Name's John Stewart. Formerly of the marines, now a member of the Green Lantern corps of galactic guardians.  I've come to help you if you'll let me.   It's clear to me you didn't mean to cause harm.  I can argue your case in front of any judges."

"Help?" the redhead trembled.  "You want to help...me?"

"Yes." He blinked, recalling a tidbit from Allen's spiel. "How did you find out about Batman's cave?"

"Hi-Mr-Stewart! I'm-Mr-Allen." The speedster smiled, having regained his good humor with uncanny speed now that he wasn't feeling so threatened. "That's-a-really-strange-name-to-go-by...Green Lantern. So-you-are-a-collector-of-all-flashlights-of-any-color-or-just-particular-lanterns-or-what? I'm-assuming-the-green-does-refer-to-your-lantern-hobby-and-not-you-because-you-look-more-brown, but, you-do-wear-a-lot-of-green-too. (Are-you-Irish? Do-you-fight-snakes?) Don't-they-call-lanterns-torches-in-Great Britain-and-Ireland? Not-that-I'm-making-fun-of-either-I-used-to-collect-rocks-when-I-was-a-kid-and-named-one-Speedster Bump-because-rocks-are-cool (or hot or whatever) yet-kind-of-tricky-at-times-because-they're-so-quiet-when-they're-lying-on-the-floor-but-loud-when-a-lot-are-falling-down-and-that's-how-I-found-The-Batman-because-this-rock-I-was-thinking-of-picking-up-had-moved-several-inches-from-when-I-last-considered-it-while-passing-through-on-my-way-to-Zambia-and-Indonesia-and-since-rocks-don't-usually-do-that-on-their-own-I-made-a-few-more-dozen-more-passes-by-that-area-to-see-if-it-kept-doing-it (it-did!) and-saw-this-cool-car-crawling-along-towards-an-opening-in-the-hill-and-went-in-and-looked-around-while-waiting-for-the-car-to-arrive-THERE-WAS-A-ROBOT-DINOSAUR!-but-it-took-so-darn-long-that-I-ended-up-leaving-first-yet-did-take-a-look-and-saw-the-weird-guy-in-black-sitting-in-the-driver's-seat-and-that-sort-of-matched-what-the-newspapers-said-about-a-dark-vigilante-working-in-Gotham-like-all-the-news-had-stories-of-a-guy-named-Superman-who-can-fly-and-a-Wonder-Woman-who-also-can-fly. Why-can't-I-fly-too?  Do-you-know-why-she's-called-Wonder-Woman-and-not-Super-Woman-or-why-Superman-isn't-Wonder-Man-then-or-were-they-married-and-then-divorced-because-I-remember-reading-about-stuff-like-that-changing-a-name-because-of-a-divorce-and-

You-sure-I-can't-have-a-ring?"

'As sure as I'm positive giving you one would somehow cause a star or two to collapsing into a black hole.' thought a mildly dizzy John. "Yeah, um...I'm sure." he finally stammered out.  He considered whether it would be feasible to create 24/7 ear plug constructs for his regular costume.

"Aw."

It wasn't until then that it dawned on Stewart that the kid had sidestepped -or more accurately- completely motor-mouthed around  his original inquiry as to the kid's real name. He could only wonder if it had been on purpose or just a result of Allen's distracted and high-strung personality. Looking at that Mom & Apple Pie face, he was inclined to think the latter.

"Look, I introduced myself-"

"I-need-my-food." Allen cut in, pointing at the luminescent lock box Stewart was still maintaining.

That brusque interruption was kind of unexpected given the kid had been up to now pretty polite about everything when taking into consideration how rude Stewart had managed to be.

"Slower.  Clear communication is a vital part of my being able to help you."

"I need my food." Allen carefully enunciated each syllable at a slowed rate, but with a pained expression. He was shaking. Little tremors coursed through the speedster that John hadn't realized were there until now...and they seemed to be getting stronger even as he considered them.  "Mr. Stewart, please-I-need...I need...I.."

Okay...the kid did look...bad all of a sudden. All hunched over and eyes starting to screw shut.  This was not a reaction to having to slow his speech.

Unless he was faking?

"You're in pain? Where?" John asked. He knelt down so as to study Allen's face. He'd seemed fine just a moment ago.

(Relatively speaking. The kid would probably make some psychologist's thesis if he ever went in for therapy.)

"Talk to me."

Allen just whimpered, taking no notice of his scrutiny. He continued to clutch at his gut.

Right...indigestion was the most likely culprit then. He should have guessed. "What did I tell you about overeating? Need an aspirin or an antacid?" It wouldn't be surprising if the kid had a belly ache from the load he'd consumed early. Then again...his stomach didn't look like it was extended out much at all. John frowned at the flat area the kid was clutching. How was that even possible when Allen had such a thin frame to begin with? He'd seen the kid wolf down two triple-cheese burgers not fifteen minutes ago, for Oa's sake. God only knew how many he'd inhaled before John even got to the burger place.  He should have a freaking belly sticking--

Dumb teens who ate with their eyes.

"Please!"

It was a sincere cry for help: Allen really was in pain. He even had tears streaming down his face.

It was that last which did Lantern in. In his world men just didn't cry unless they absolutely stuck in a situation of extreme duress. (Which was why he never watched Old Yeller unless he was absolutely hermetically-sealed in his apartment for the duration.)

Gods...the kid was crying. Down on the floor crying.  What the hell did you do when a guy was unabashedly crying right in front of you? With a girl you were supposed to cave in and shell out flowers or candy. Dealing with weepy ladies was like fighting with Sinestro...there were some rules to follow even if at first glance it looked like a chaotic mess; but with a fellow guy?

Not even a tip sheet because that sort of thing really -was- a chaotic mess.

"Let's get you to the toilet."  He took hold of Allen's shoulders, dropping the all-but-forgotten sugar he'd been holding.  "I can force you to vomit the food you ate."

"No!"

"You'll feel 100% better with that gunk out rather than in."

Never in his life had John Stewart seen such a look of absolute terror on a human face.

This was ludicrous.  How could the kid want _more_ food when it was likely the overeating that was causing the cramps?

Oh, man, now the kid was clawing his way towards the dropped sugar packets.

Against what he thought was his better judgment, Stewart caved.

"Okay, okay...here." He removed the barrier. "But if I have to call 911 for a real stomach pump, you are paying their bill."

Immediately Allen's arm reached for the revealed tote containing the burgers and ripped into the food so fast he probably ate some of the wax paper along with the bun. A moment later, drink after sugary drink was guzzled down. It was kind of frightening to watch...all those empty fats and emptier calories disappearing like a magician's trick...with the grand finale being that Allen's torso -still- remained unaffected by the extra mass within it.

Right, that was just borderline freaky.

Stewart's moment of bemusement was interrupted by a burp which probably would have been loud enough to set off car alarms if he hadn't closed the window beforehand.

"Geez...Better now?" John asked with a skeptical air. "Or should I go for that stomach pump?"

"Little. S'okay." Allen yawned rather hugely while rubbing his middle with a frown. "Too slow. Too long... Gonna crash soon. I'm sorry. Gotta get home." He tentatively stood...grimacing a bit. "Too slow," he repeated to himself.

What's too slow?"

"Me." Allen seemed preoccupied with watching the hotel's ancient wall clock. It was a real monstrosity from another generation's idea of tacky fun...a black and white feline grinning like a Cheshire Cat while his swinging tail marked each passing, analog-ticking second.

"Hello, kitty." Allen smiled at it. "Here...kitty, kitty. I like cats. Is it yours?"

"No." (Thank goodness.) John considered himself a dog person. Big dogs.  Not those little yappy monstrosities.  "You...you're talking almost normally." Stewart realized. In fact he was still speaking just a bit faster than normal (and he could only hope that calling out to a clock was some sort of joke) still, it was a major improvement over the rapid-fire paragraphs he'd been shooting out before.

"Gets-easier before a crash." A distracted Allen explained as he started gathering his bags. He stared blankly at the trash from his meal as if he'd forgotten it existed. "You got a trash can?"

"There's one in the bedroom...by the nightstand." John informed him, conveniently dismissing the more convenient one under the kitchenette's sink. He reasoned that anything that moved the kid further away from the exit door was something to go with. Plus, it was closer to the bathroom and a certain piece of plumbing Stewart was pretty sure was going to become vital within a couple of minutes.

"Okay. Mind?" He held up the tote.

John gestured towards the other doorway where the sleeping furniture resided. "Go ahead."

Smiling rather wanly, Allen stumbled for the bedroom door. Green Lantern noted that he wasn't breaking any speed records doing so.

Okay..now their positions were reversed and John was getting impatient. Stewart waited until he was halfway inside before taking the tote from Allen's loose grip and emptying it himself before it got dropped and made a mess on the carpet.  (Well, okay, it was an inner-city hotel carpet, but it would still be a mess to have to clean up.)

"What's easier?" He asked as Allen watched the simple proceedings as raptly as if John was performing heart surgery.

"Being so slowkey-pokey."

.

Allen scratched the back of his head. He couldn't understand why the other thought him incapable of emptying his own garbage...it looked fairly easy enough even if the room was want to tilt towards the left a mite. Why was the floor not behaving?

_'Oh, that's right...I'm was crashing. -Am- crashing. Sleepy. Weird. Weirdly sleepy. Sleepy weirdly freakily meekly...deeply..._

_Crap.'_

He should be home for this. He really should be. It wasn't safe to be not-home when he crashed.

.

"Usually-have to concentrate to talk-this slow. To be slow for Mason." Allen yawned. "For food places. Everyone is so slow here. Now. Easiest..with..a crash. But sleepy too." John noted the look of longing Allen gave the bed, yet the kid did not move any closer to it.

"Everyone...like Mason Tollbridge the shop owner?"

"Yeah. Boss. Shop. Job. Paycheck. Need money-for-everything."

The last word was more of a whine spoken with naked exasperation. It hinted that the kid was fairly unfamiliar with managing finances and thought the discovery to be more of a nuisance than anything potentially life threatening...at least as yet. Had someone else been taking care of all of his needs until recently? If so, who? Where were they now? How had Allen coped these past few weeks if he ate like that every day yet still found the concept of needing money unfamiliar?

"Money makes the world go round, kid."

The teen blinked at him with a puzzled frown. "No-it-doesn't. Physics. Gravity. Rotation on an axis hypothetically created by The Big Bang." He twirled one finger in the air to illustrate -fast, but not fast enough to create a miniature cyclone or anything- then extended out a curved thumb from the pointing index finger while curling the rest towards his palm. "Bang! Gravity. Cosmic gun." Looked at his hand and giggled. "Everything came into existence; now everyone carries hand guns." He 'holstered' his. "I wanted a cowboy hat, but mom said no."

John snorted. "It's was just an expression," he explained, both amused and vexed that the red-head was acting tipsy when he wanted a serious conversation about who Allen really was.

"Oh." Allen tilted his head and gave him a quizzical look. Then excitedly snapped his fingers. Or tried to. "Like slang! I learned-some. Really, um: Totally. Rad. Cool. Cruddy-ass." Again he grinned. (Stewart was beginning to think it was the kid's normal expression. Not a bad one to pick either...suited his face.)

"I think you mean 'bad ass'." John corrected him.

"Well, it was something not good." Allen waved his error away as unimportant. "Most of it was confusing. Hot and cold...mean same thing?" He yawned.

"In essence. Who was your mom?"

The kid stared into space.

"You okay?"

Allen started to chant, "Hot is cold, thus cold is hot; twist 'round to hate the lot, 'til one prevails yet all for not. Henceforth you'll seek them out or rot. So is your lot now you've been caught. Let him forget and be forgot." He hummed the rhyme a bit more, lost in the sounds.

The Green Lantern felt his eyebrow raise a bit in surprise at that nonsensical response. Maybe the kid wasn't -acting- drunk after all; maybe he really was inebriated. Could someone get high on enormous quantities of junk food?

Or maybe _Mowgli the wild boy_ here was simply raised by jungle animals and ended up substandard in the head as a result? It was a bit of a conundrum because how could Allen know about physics yet seem unsure about such common word usages? His Oan ring had declared this meta was human and not of some alien race foreign to the Sol system. However, could he have been raised by aliens and recently returned to his planet of origin? There were species who kidnapped lesser ones for either profit or the sheer heck of it. And what was with the odd choice in poetry?

"That's an interesting ditty."

"Hmm...what ditty?" Allen lazily scratched the back of his head.

"The one you just..." Stewart rubbed his face as the kid's clueless expression only deepened with each word. "Never mind. What do you mean by crashing?"

_Keep him talking!_

"Tired. Had to eat. Too long-hungry. Too tired to..convert it-all...stomach...energy to run... crazy. Crashing." Allen yawned again, this time his eyes remaining dull. "Have-to sleep." He got up at what had to be considered achingly slow to him; moving almost at a normal speed. "Eat-Sleep. Feel. Better." With some difficulty, his guest orientated himself towards the exit. "B.A. go home."

"B. Allen?"

"Nope. Bad ass." Allen placed a hand over his heart and giggled yet again, but even that was getting less exuberant sounding.

Stewart took him by the elbow. "I'm sure you will be. But I think you'd better do your 'crashing' here. You look half asleep." That was no lie. The kid's eyes were glazing over and he was noticeably listing. If he made it to the front door, John would be mightily impressed.

"Can't. Not safe." Allen muttered. "Elmer Funt." He swung an arm about the room. "Candid Cameras to the left of me...Candid Cameras to the right...got'a be a wascally wabbit to dodge the bullet." The teen snickered some more as if he was drunk even though Stewart hadn't detect anything alcoholic coming from him. A pale index finger bopped John on the nose. "Flash photos," a knowing Allen whispered.

"Don't want your picture in the papers, huh?"

"Heck no! Imper-ic-al...video Flashdance." Allen looked like he was considering his own vocabulary...then gave a short, quick nod. "Yeah...Inex-plicable...effer...vescence...pheasants..."

Stewart formed a stethoscope and applied the business end to Allen's chest. His heart seemed okay. "You mean 'empirical evidence' and-"

"S'wot I said." Allen poked at the radiant stethoscope tube. "Say...you're not a doc are you? You're wearing green...but no...s'no head light thingy on your head."

"Maybe not, but you're Dopey. Ring...scan him."

"Then you're...a quack...like Daffy."

[Metabolic imbalance caused by massive glucose fluctuations. Accelerated activity in cells destabilizing cognitive brain activity. Consciousness is tentative and failing.]

"No kidding."

"Daffy, sappy, soapy, mopey, hokey, dokey. Here we go loopy loo...here we go loopy lie...here we go loopy loo...all on a Satyr-day nightie night..." Allen sing-songed to the ceiling lamp while John considered the ring's analysis.

Glucose flux. Not eating followed by too much starch and sugar. Diabetes?

He was getting a bad feeling about this.

"Mshr..Stewpid?"

John wasn't about to answer that one.

"Got'sa....sea craut."

"A secret?"  He leaned in closer.  Maybe Allen was about to slip his real name or origins?

"Shwush.shshshsh...varah she-crepit" the redhead ran a splayed hand over his tummy then whispered.  "Gott'a bun in mah oven".

"A..." John didn't know whether to laugh or facepalm.  That decided it.  "I'm taking you to a doctor."  Now he just had to decide on what kind:  medical or psychiatric.

"Uhhuh...shecrete.  Schtomach bun bunny...sitting."  His prisoner murmured baby talk at his stomach, giggled like it was all terribly funny, still patting the area under around his left ribs.

"Okay."  John had his ring silently scan Allen's stomach then read the resultant information.

That couldn't be right.

_Stomach is mostly empty?  Too empty considering what had transpired.  But there was a small lump of undigested food in it just sitting there.  Fermenting.  How could most of the food Allen had eaten just minutes before be almost metabolized yet a whole bun was sitting in there nearly intact and not even beginning to be digested?_

_Obviously his ring was due for it's own checkup if it was getting this glitchy._

"Kid, I don't think you have a choice on staying with me. You may be suffering diabetic shock from not eating followed by overdoing it and now your blood sugar's swung the other way."

"Yeah, sugah, sugah...yer my candy girl...and you gots me loving yoooo." Allen sang, falling against John's chest. He wrapped one arm loosely around John's shoulder while using the other to shoo away invisible beings. "Flash gonna crash now...tell the purple lemmings to get out'a the way? Du'wanna squash 'em...they'll squeak."

If the kid wasn't obviously out of his mind from a chemical cocktail in his bloodstream, Stewart would have been delighted to take Allen right then and there. As it was, getting him to the Metro Tower's medical bay seemed the wiser course. "Maybe later. For now I think I'd better get you some professional help-"

"Nope, okay...kindasortmay...be. Ish. Been here, done those. Tha's why Lassie come home to roost. Sleep tight. Be fine-line...pen-you'll time apely."

It took Stewart a moment to translate that. "Penultimately... After this _crashing_ , you'll be fine?"

Allen smiled blearily at him. "Bingo, smarty pants! Reboot!  Gonna be fine and dandy. Green Giant wins the poopy doll."

"You better mean 'kewpie' and don't ever call me..." Allen jerked his arm free and took a half-step towards the door before John got a better grip on him, pulling him back. "Whoa there, Speedy Gonzales. Look, kid, if you say your going to be okay after this...well, I'll take your word for it, but no way you're leaving here in this state. I won't let anyone know you're here and I promise not to take your picture. You're safe with me."

Allen blinked again. Even slower this time. "Promise?" He nodded as if answering his own question before Stewart had a chance to. "...'Kay." Slowest blink of all and a smirk as he looked John dead in the eye. "Crashing."

With that last declaration he was out like a light. John caught him before he could slump over and hit the floor.

Great.

Kid had better be right about this being 'normal' for his physiology, because John would be damned if he was going to let the kid slip into a diabetic coma and die on him after all he'd been through.

=============

a/n: Elmer Fudd was a lisping Looney Tunes cartoons character who hunted the rascally rabbit Bugs Bunny and the chronically crazy Daffy Duck; Speedy Gonzalez was a Mexican mouse who was faster than anything. ALAN Funt was the host of a popular comedy show called Candid Camera where people were played tricks on that were caught on film...usually innocent stuff like a talking mailbox or a hat that seemingly moved on its own power. Kodak Moment was part of a film company's successful ad campaign. Lassie was a dog film star. Green Giant is the icon of a major American food company that specializes in vegetables.  
Chapter 6: Edge of the Abyss


	7. Obscure Recollections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is one is more adult rated, but I'm having trouble finding a way to change the rating just now. Got to be a way somehow.

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit work of fanfiction written for fun. The writer does not own any of the characters or places created by DC Universe or any other licensed product. Lyrics from: Live To Tell as sung by Madonna

 

.

A man can tell a thousand lies.

I've learned my lesson well.

Hope I live to tell the secret I have learned.

Til then, it will burn inside of me...

.

.

 

.

Chapter 7: Obscure Recollections

 

Fabric whispering against another surface.  Intruder...Heartbeat...calm...Silhouette...

Of course it was.  Who else other than an ambitious villain would try it?

 

"What is it with you today, Wayne?" Kal-El demanded. The Kryptonian didn't even bother to ask how Batman had gotten into his personal quarters or why.  Experience taught that Bruce wouldn't bother to answer the first and second was bound to come up as their discussion progressed.

He stood up from his personal crystalline work area and stalked around Batman in a not so subtle attempt to cow the human. After all, it wasn't like he had invited The Bat into his quarters.   If the human felt no qualms about trespassing into another person's domain then he should be fine with facing said angry owner.  "Just what crawled up your ass of late? Ever since John found this 'speedster' you've been acting odd, and with you that's tantamount to saying the Earth has started spinning backwards."

Instead of flinching away from Superman's righteous anger or countering with his own belligerence, however, Batman whispered, "Am I acting odd?" His chin lowered a millimeter...the only indication that the strangely subdued Dark Knight was really considering the others words. "Am I the only one?"

"Yes...you're acting odd!" The Kryptonian exclaimed. Closing his eyes, Kal-El modulated his voice level. Getting upset was not helping anything. It was hard not to feel agitated, though. Kal-El was feeling that a lot of late.  As if the very air had developed a finely-ground kryptonite quality to it that made nerves feel perpetually raw.  It had started off as a 'barely there' feeling, but recently was getting worse.  Maybe...

Did Bruce sense it as well...this premonition that something outside their knowledge was happening?

"Are you the only one acting strangely? I don't know...sometimes I feel..." feeling exhausted, Kal-El rubbed his face with the palms of both hands...."like I'm stuck in someone's dream..." (Oh, bollocks! He hadn't intended to tell anyone that lest they think him mad.) He took refuge from his slip by in centering on his anger. "Quite trying to change the subject, Bruce. Consider this my notice to you that your previously delayed 'moment of disclosure' is due now."

"I used to know a speedster."

"What?" Superman blinked at the off-the-wall statement. He turned to stare into Batman's white eye lenses; azure eyes dilated slightly as his vision switched modes until Bruce Wayne's colder versions of blue clearly came into focus. They did not flinch even though the owner surely knew what Superman was doing. Seeing as the League had confided their true identities to each other early on it was no real breach of trust; however, it plainly still rankled Bruce Wayne that Kal-El had the ability to see through this part of his physical mask even more easily than J'onn J'onzz could look into his mind. (Even the genius of Wayne Enterprises had yet to come up with a way to incorporate lead into eye lenses and still let the wearer have adequate vision.  He had a small subdivision working on it, though, if Lois source was anything to go by.) Well, x-ray vision was part of Kal-El and he wasn't about to apologize for his abilities. Anyway, his team mate's exposed face remained expressionless: a more impenetrable mask than the Kevlar could ever hope to be.

"Don't pretend you didn't catch it the first time, _Kal_."

True, but this was the first he'd heard of it. As far as Kal-El knew, he was the only speedster around worthy of the title until this Flash super being showed up. Yet Bruce was speaking in the past tense. Maybe he wasn't the only one going stir crazy and the Dark Knight was starting to crack as well? If so...

He didn't relish the thought of putting Batman down.  Nor would it be pleasant for The League to have to spend a day disarming the Bat Cave in order to check for and do the same to any paranoid _Anti-The League Gone Evil_ contingency plans.

"When?"

"When I was in high school," Batman answered. "Curiously enough...so did you."

"Talk sense, Bruce." Kal-El scowled. Great. So this was just another of Bruce's mind games. Yet more of the recluse's 'psych-you-out' exercises employed against a team member because Batman didn't have a super power worthy of the name. No...that wasn't quite it. Bruce could be a bitter pill, but he wasn't malicious...just a bit tactless. "We didn't even grow up in the same state let alone share an Alma Mater." Clark Kent had come from a family-owned farm household in Smallville, Kansas. Bruce Wayne was the inheritor of a major fortune in New England's urban expanse. "Not all of us grew up choking on a monogrammed silver spoon-"

"Be that as it may," Batman snapped back at him, "I remember that you and I each grew into adulthood knowing a person who could run extremely fast. That somehow...at some point in time...we forgot him." He stared Kal-El in the eye, daring him to say something contradictory.

Superman glared right back at him for a moment before dryly replying, "I don't recall ever meeting anyone as quick as I am, Bruce. I'd think I'd remember something like that." It was a polite way of asking 'Are you bonkers?'

Those steel-blue eyes didn't relent one bit. "Not if we were made to forget."

Okay. That answer was...unexpected.

Kal-El drummed his fingers on the table's surface. "Not saying I totally believe this hypothesis of yours, but...by who? And why? Hammond is locked up and in a coma, Grodd is dead..." Kal-El breathed in deeply as a name jumped into his head.  Someone who could do such a deed...yet was the least likely to do so given his morals about personal rights.  "The Martian? Why would J'onn want us to forget this supposed school friend?"

"J'onzz is a possible candidate," Bruce agreed. "The strain on his telepathy would be so immense, though, that I don't think he's the cause any more than Hammond or Grodd would have been even when in their prime. In fact, there are very few culprits who could remove the memory of someone from a planet full of people. I think it more likely it was done with magic."

Superman hesitated. He didn't like this new theory of The Bat's, but how many times had Wayne been totally off base? Unsettled, he fiddled with one of the crystalline controls on his desktop, pulling up info on the more supernaturally inclined beings they knew of: Zatanna, Captain Marvel/Shazam, The Spectre, Constantine...The Demon Etrigan..."Reason?"  He could hear the disappointed gust of air expelled from Wayne's lips.

"You still don't know who I'm talking about even though you heard the same name I did."

"I'm looking them all up now."  Batman's frown intensified.

Ah.  This is about _that_.

"You mean the mysterious _B. Allen_ of recent mention?" An unimpressed Superman let go of the control and crossed his arms. "My intelligence is based on an alien heritage that's more highly advanced than those of most humans so don't try to make me feel that I'm stupid. This may surprise you, Bruce, but you're not the only one with a good memory for names and that one doesn't strike any bells. " If anything, Bruce's frown intensified....which was quite the accomplishment.  Of course, Batman had made an advanced art form out of frowning. How mere lips alone could deliver so much scathing disapproval... "Bruce..."

"Shut up, Kal, this isn't about my or your overstuffed sense of ego!"

Bruce breathed in and out; Kal-El held his own in. Both men quietly acknowledging the need for their tempers to cool a bit and agreed to _shut up_ for a moment.

"Of course you are not stupid. I never meant to imply that." Bruce grudgingly made the first move of appeasement. "However, unlike you _I_ do remember the name...if only mostly that I'm not remembering something important associated with 'Allen' other than 'speedster' and 'friend'. A magical attack would account for such a disparity between our perspectives as you are defenseless against it even when faced with empirical evidence."

"And you would have defenses against magic?" Kal-El raised an eyebrow, reminding himself that it was very likely that Bruce wasn't intentionally trying to mock him. Still, that didn't stop the temptation to get angry at the man. Lately, Bruce just seemed to make him angry so easily. As with the hazy feelings of something out of place, this short temper he'd recently attained seemed to be without rhyme or reason.

Maybe they were all just tired. Was it possible that this Flash's arriving and taking on so much of their workload was a godsend in disguise?  Did The League need a mass vacation?  Wouldn't that go down just swell with the public.  He could picture Bruce's ire over some editorial cartoonist depicting Batman lounging on a beach with a martini in hand and a tropical-flower lei casually tossed around his tapered ears.

Wearing bat-symbol swim trunks and thong sandals whose tops were stylized batarangs.

_He was not going to start laughing out loud._

Blithely unaware of Superman's amused thoughts, Batman nodded. "Of a sort...certainly more than you do. I've trained my mind to not summarily dismiss what seems impossible when all other possibilities have been disproved."

"Not terribly original. I believe you stole that line from A.C. Doyle." Superman smirked, still enjoying his new mental vision of a relaxed Batman.

"Basic truths can not be patented." Batman retaliated, "Unlike some, I keep extensive records and not just a menagerie of useless creatures at the North Pole."

"Do tell." The Man of Steel's expression lost the momentary mirth it had held. Batman's record keeping tendencies were at time a sore point with the rest of the League. The man not only kept files on their enemies...but on his teammates as well....hence the worry over any Anti-League contingency plans sequestered in the Bat Cave.

The paranoid bastard.

"Then you've found proof of this mystery person I've supposedly forgotten about?"

"Unfortunately, no...neither digital nor cognitive ones," Batman admitted. "Yet some of my records have unexplainable gaps...especially during my time spent at a private high school and when I first met you. If I didn't know better, I'd say we'd been selectively mind wiped. The question is...do I know better?"

"Forgotten pasts, mind wipes. Isn't this just a tad bit extreme? Bruce...maybe you're just tired and it's turning into paranoia... _worse_ paranoia," The Kryptonian clarified, "...than you usually hold to. We've all been skittering on the edge of late...prone to anger..."

Batman grunted. "A possibility I already considered."

A resigned Kal-El absently nodded, rubbing at the area between his eyes. "Of course you did."

"Even the rising levels of ire between The League's members...it wasn't there a month ago."

"Everyone gets angry at times. Especially under stress." Kal-El intensified rubbing at the bridge of his nose, willing his stubborn muscles to relax a mite.

"What stress?" Batman bit out with enough asperity to warrant Kal-El's undivided attention.  He logged into Superman's computer like he'd was familiar with the 'hardware' and punched up the latest news reports to illustrate his point. "It's been quiet, Kal."

Superman said nothing about any of it. Oh, he wanted to yell about the first--and eventually he would--but right now he was stymied about the second revelation.  Frankly, he didn't know what to say to that because _Bruce was right_. In fact, the past few days had been almost dead. The Never Ending Battle was taking a breather.  If it weren't for the odd natural disaster in the air or in space...they might as well have taken time off from the 'hero' time clock and indulged in some Waikiki downtime.

"Criminal plan, friendly gone sour, or natural phenomena?"

"Unknown." In a rare moment of letting his inner exasperation show, Bruce exhaled rather loudly, "I wish I knew.  Let's at least agree on this for now: someone or something is affecting our memories and very possibly our emotions."

"For now," Superman agreed, wanting to hear more. Well, maybe 'willing' was a more apt word than wanting. He hated magic. It was hard to punch out the lights of an illusion or wrestle with a phantom. In such a battle his Kryptonian strength would be nigh useless.  It was at times like this he was envious of Shayera and her magic-nullifying, Nth-metal weapon.  "So...how do we counter something we aren't even sure is there?"

"By being aware that it _could_ be there and planning for each possibility as much as possible." Batman paced about the room, another outward sign of his agitation---behavior which was beginning to alarm Kal-El.  It was a feeling that wasn't helped when Bruce added, "Whomever or whatever is doing this is powerful and has been allowed by our ignorance to set all the chess pieces in place before we even knew we were challenged by a game...perhaps one for our very lives. However, mistakes can be made when you try to make something disappear on such a scale. Inter-connected digital records can be wiped by a virus and mental blocks placed within psyches. This kind of 'soft' evidence is what would be targeted first...it's relatively easy to change if you have the necessary resources."

"Easy?" Superman coughed. "Easy for  _you_ maybe."

"Yet various hard evidence may well be overlooked." Bruce continued, "Personal yearbooks, school newspapers articles, memorabilia boxes holding artifacts... For most, these would not be the first thing to come to mind when you wanted to erase knowledge on a wide scale and fairly quickly."

"Empirical evidence to prove what we remember isn't necessarily what is real?" Superman gave him a droll smile. "You want me to ask Ma to wax nostalgic and raid my old school stuff? That would probably make her day."

"If you or she kept such things, then yes. In any case, upon hearing the names I remembered a speedster despite my having no recollection of having met or heard of one before yesterday. The monikers of 'Keystone' and 'Allen' together struck a cord even though my logical brain insisted that they were unfamiliar. Plus, the name Lantern supplied did not exist in my computer. Ergo, it was not impossible that something was triggering a forgotten memory. I never forget a name I consider important, Kal-El. Not on my own; not without _help_."

"I agree, but how's this for a fly in the ointment?" Superman offered up, "This Keystone's Rudolph B. Allen you think we might have known has--according to John--barely touched adulthood. Are you implying we knew a baby who could literally sprint right out of his diaper?"

"I never said this was the same person." Batman bent his head in contemplation. "If it was, then this possibly could be a case of time travel or that some kind of dimensional transference was involved. Probability is higher that this could be a son, nephew, cousin...or someone who also knew a man with ties to Keystone City who is named Allen."

"Which also happens to be phonetic for 'Alan'...a popular first name." Kal-El reminded him.  "That will exponentially make any search much harder."

"Not in this case."

"And that would be because?"

Bruce opened a section on his utility belt and removed a small object. He handed it over. Kal-El unhesitatingly accepted it. He saw to his bemusement that it was a pin-on button featuring a bedraggled cartoon coyote along with the caption: _I Am A Super Genius_. On the reverse side was engraved: _Good luck, Bruce! ~B. Allen_.

Flipping it between his fingers, Superman gave the molecular structure the once over, feeling the smooth surface gliding over his fingers. It was made of an inexpensive metal...aluminum. The other side bore a thin spike composed of the same unremarkable substance. A common enough trinket then; probably purchased on a whim. Even the engraving looked like it had been hastily scrawled on by the purchaser with a pen knife  or carpenter's nail rather than done with an actual engraving tool. Not something he'd imagine Bruce would have bothered to purchase for himself -or for that matter, held onto.  Not unless it held some significance to him. More likely would be that the saving of this bit of nostalgia was Alfred's and not Bruce's doing as it didn't seem linked to a crime...at least not back then...and Batman only collected trophies that had to do with his crime fighting exploits.

The only thing particularly noteworthy about the button was that name scratched into the back.

Well, it could be one of The Joker's little gags?  That would imply that either The Joker knew who Batman was or that Bruce Wayne had been a coincidental target.

"Interesting." He looked at his fellow Founder with mild annoyance. "Not least for the fact that you could have waved this trinket at me a bit earlier in our conversation dealing with gathering hard evidence?"

Batman snatched it back.  "I specifically came here to show it to you."  He held it up to the light as if inspecting a prized jewel.  "This item refers to a Advanced Mathematics club I belonged to in my senior year of high school."

"Too overqualified to take Advanced Theatrics, I take it?"  Kal-El sniped.

"Actually, I taught it," a smug Bruce rejoined, leaving the Kryptonian unclear as to whether Wayne was joking or not.  "When I had Alfred search my yearbooks...there was no picture of any B. Allen in them. However, there was a postcard stuffed between two pages of a school newsletter that had not been properly filed with the rest of my memorabilia."

"Sounds kind of sloppy.  I bet Alfred was displeased by that."

"Are you going to listen to what I have to say or shall we leave the important things for later while you indulge in inane comments?"

"Sorry."

It held no post mark, but did feature a souvenir picture of Keystone, Kansas. The message was to not torment Clark Kent too much about my better grade point average and was signed 'Allen'."

Superman straightened having felt a chill go through his blood.  Now he was fully empathizing with Bruce's disquiet.  "But..." he stared anew at the innocuous novelty item that should not exist.

"Yes...I know. In our memories _we never knew each other_ before the League was formed let alone during our scholastic years. An interesting conundrum."

Kal-El could feel his headache intensifying. "Then it's possible that yearbooks have also been compromised?"  Ma would not get an official reason to wax nostalgic after all.

"Possibly. The postcard may have escaped censor because it was not where it was meant to be placed. Similarly, the box that held the pin was hidden away by Alfred as he knew I would not have kept it otherwise." He waited for a response, but when Kal-El remained silent, Bruce continued. "I have considered that the 'B' might actually be the initial of a nickname rather than a so-called christian one; however, I still don't remember any Rudolph...though that sounds familiar to me as well. Unfortunately, the names of Rudolph and Allen do not feel as if they belong together.  Linked, but not so closely as to be parts of one name." The Caped Crusader frowned mightily. The idea that a memory had been removed from his mind was unsettling. It had become an all-consuming passion now to find out just what and how much had been stolen from him...as well as why.  He would not feel easy until this mystery was solved.  It was a good bet that Kal-El would feel the same way.

 

"So...you want to interrogate this Rudolph B. Allen--whom John is so keen on-- primarily to see what he knows of our Allen." Kal-El sighed, foreseeing yet a new headache situation in the near future. "You realize that Stewart seems to have staked a claim to him already?"

"That's obvious." Batman noted, sounding just a tad more pissed than necessary.

"And?"

"Just as it's obvious he's not told us everything. Lantern's keeping things to himself. Likely hoping to win more than Flash's trust before they come here and the meta has a chance to see he has other options for a mentor."

Kal-El had to agree there. Stewart was being rather possessive. Of course, so were the others -including the dark character standing before him. "Very likely that's true...and he is going to see your interest as something else entirely than that of someone merely looking for an old acquaintance." He gave Wayne a shrewd look. "Correct me if I'm wrong...but I'm thinking he wouldn't be far off in that?"

"Who said it would be wrong making such an assumption?" Batman's expression twisted into something much more likely to be sighted on the public face of Bruce Wayne during his more...infamous exploits. "If 'Rudolph' is related to him, I want to meet him as well--and I suspect--so will you.  While I don't recall much about Allen as yet, Kal, I do remember this...we both thought he was a damned good lay."

 .

.

From where his 'ghost' had materialized inside Superman's room, J'onn J'onzz telepathically felt Batman's leer widen as Kal-El's interest in their subject increased tenfold.

As the strongest person on the planet, Superman had hordes of human females and males who daily expressed their willingness to ...assist... arguably the most famous hero on the planet when it came to satisfying the latter part of his title. Alien or not, these people of limited brain capacity reasoned that Kal-El was still a man and a super one surely was in need of _super_ relief.  Surely a need that went beyond whatever other super beings might be providing on the sly.

_Humans._

The truth was that Superman had weakness that was not tied to green rocks and that was a very short list of possible bedding partners.  Frankly, ones he could risk getting carried away by passion with and _not_ accidentally cause a fatality.  While other beings with super strength had a similar issue, Superman had not only to deal with avoiding crushing his partner, but also (as John had once put it) not _"frying, freezing, or ripping them apart from inside with organic buckshot."_ Add the times when some super beings were either away, incapacitated, or just plain experiencing a headache and you could quickly develop a tense situation.

In other words, when Kal-El said he wanted to go out into some desert and let off some steam...it was wise to let him go and do his own thing.

.

J'onn allowed his conscious mind to silently drift away from the duo and land firmly back into his own body. Such mental trips were exhausting to even those rare Martians who had at one time been considered adept at them. Those who hadn't practiced meditation for many decades never attained the ability. J'onzz recently had a thousand years to indulge in such practice--and even now he akin to _Journeyman_ level and was no Master of the art; not exactly having been a natural adept of the metaphysical arts back before The White Invasion.  Determination and boredom could only go so far.

He felt wrung out.  Martian gods knew it would have been far easier to simply move physically between the wall structures separating him from Superman and Batman rather than going for a mental hike, yet this strain on his resources had been necessary as he needed to keep pace with events _without_ Kal-El or Bruce Wayne knowing he was doing so.

Sadly, what J'onn had feared was indeed coming to pass: whatever was affecting the League members was worsening and no one was being spared. Probably not even he...though he could hardly judge that one way or another since being affected very probably blinded him to the facts on in which way and how much he was impacted.

The fact of Barry's probable demise sadden him for J'onn had liked the quiet speedster. They had been friends...with Barry's last cry in his mind being that -whatever the outcome- J'onn watch over his young one should Barry prove unable to. Now it would appear that Barry's young one had indeed returned and without his mentor. Both unknown to his past friends and coworkers.  Did J'onn dare -as the human saying went- open up this can of worms?

Barry Allen had been the first human to trust J'onn without reservation. To be sure, it was Batman who had discovered his captivity and torture and Superman had been the one who led the rescue from the government facility; but it was the speedster, _Barry_ \--quiet, unassuming, altruistic, Barry Allen, who had accepted J'onn's presence without so much as a flinch when J'onn had told the metas of what he was capable of.

Telepaths were not generally welcomed by those without that ability. Not even the well-meaning Kal-El of Krypton had been totally immune to feeling some xenophobia. (Although to be fair...the media of this planet was predisposed to being anti-Martian well before J'onzz had arrived. A casual glance through the horror section of any entertainment section was proof enough of that.

Be that as it may, J'onn owed the League for rescuing him from government scientists; however, he owed Barry for his unquestioning friendship...and Barry had made a last request of him for the one that he had taken as his own.

But the question remained: did he also owe the child of Barry Allen continued safety even if the child was a danger to that very same group that Barry had also cared about?  Should the needs of the _one_ or the _many_ prevail?

J'onn meditated on this problem a little longer.

If the boy was of age by human standards...then he was not a child. As such, he no longer required the protection of any elder. An adult could take care of his own defense; J'onn need not concern himself about protecting him. In fact, did not his loyalty fall to others? He wasn't sure why, but intuition told him the boy was a danger to them...that he shouldn't be here.

And yet...was it the fault of the victim that he was a threat?

Displeased that his conscience would not allow a simple answer to such a question, J'onzz felt his frustration mount. Perhaps the best course of action for now was no action at all. At least, not until his subconscious mind allowed him more of the facts.

 .

.

"So what happened after you met?" Diana asked, casting a glance at a (supposedly) irritated Shayera.

A minute earlier Green Lantern had called wishing to talk with Hol. Where he wasn't surprised to discover she had answered from Diana's bedroom, he did sound a bit put out that Shayera did not seem all that interested in his 'guest'. Nor would Shayera consent to allowing the video feed to be switched on...so John was receiving audio only without any interesting views. Diana snickered to herself. That's what a male got when he jerked a woman about like Stewart had done to his main lover. Really, Green Lantern should know better by now than to stand up a temperamental Thanagarian.

(((In his words, he 'crashed'.))) Stewart explained. (((The good news is that the kid's not all powerful like Kal-El. If he didn't have to rest and refuel just like the rest of us...well, like the rest of us in spades... who knows when I'd have managed to catch him. Of course, that's also the bad news. I messed up his dining schedule enough to send his blood glucose level into cartwheels...could have sworn I was going to have to carry his ass into Emergency. Still, for all that he's looking pretty healthy now. When he wakes, I'm taking him outside the city for some exercise.)))

Shayera snorted. "You make it sound-"

(((Don't go there.)))  Lantern voice snapped at her from the comm. Belatedly realizing this, his continued with somewhat forced levity, (((No _'man-and-his-dog'_ comments allowed until after you've met him for yourself and have to concur with me that he's got Welsh Springer Spaniel in his ancestry.)))

"Maybe I'd realize these things if you were telling them to me...say, face-to-face?" his disgruntled girlfriend huffed back.  She discretely logged into a data search to find out what in this world a Welsh Springer Spaniel was.  Diana leaned over to look at the image that popped up.

"Cute." Both women chuckled over having spoken in tandem.

From the radio could hear him clearly sigh outloud, probably mistaking their exclamations for mutual sarcasm. ((("Look, Shay...I'm sorry about our date. I didn't intend to abandon you.")))

"No prob," Shayera brusquely told him."I was able to find a replacement." She traded a smirk with Diana.

(("So I gathered."))) John muttered. He really couldn't blame her for being a bit miffed. Didn't even blame her for going to Wonder Woman...the Amazon was widely considered to be the most beautiful woman on the planet. ((("Anyway, I just wanted to apologize for not being there for you. But you have to understand...this kid...he's...special.")))

"So _I_ gathered." Shayera's reply was icy, but her eyes twinkled. Not that John could see that; which was rather the point.

(((I mean it, Shay. From what I had observed yesterday and today I'm revising my statement that this guy moves like he could give even Superman a run for his money when it comes to speed because he _would_ leave him in the dust,")) Stewart's voice was thick with more than a hint of relish. ((("In case you doubt, I also had the ring do an analysis of the energy he was putting out and checked to see if it had been picked up by other agencies. It had been.. _globally_. They measured it as moving even faster than Superman's best recorded time. It's been causing quite a bit of speculation amongst the scientific and government types."))) Multiple eyebrows rose upon hearing that. Nobody they'd ever encountered before could move nearly as fast as Superman. Not even Wonder Woman could keep up when the Kryptonian went flat out.

"No one is faster than Superman." a rather irked Shayera asserted. Not that she particularly cared about Kal-El's velocity gauge. She was more irritated that John wasn't contritely sweet talking to her more to make up for his being half a continent away. For the life of her, she could not understand what it was with John and speed all of a sudden. He'd never seemed to care about such things before now.  Anyway, it wasn't like Green Lanterns were _slow_ as they managed to patrol whole sectors of space.  When you could transverse between one star system and another in a matter of hours, who cared how fast one being could run across a single planetary body?  Obviously, something else was going on here.

"To go faster than Superman would surely mean approaching light's own speed." Diana observed. "Isn't that supposed to be impossible for organic creatures?"  Even Hermes, swiftest of the Greek Gods, could not travel so fast.

((("Yeah," Stewart agreed, "but apparently we've been misinformed or nobody bothered to tell the kid that. Superman may be faster than a speeding bullet, but this meta could race lightning bolts...possibly win, too. I told you how my construct velocity fares against his. Kal-El will just have to face it that right now I have The Fastest Man Alive sleeping in my bed and he's not from Krypton."

Wonder Woman shook her head at the smugness she heard in John's pronouncement. Men and their rivalries. Competition should involve a clear battlefield with weapons and equally classed opponents, not this silly 'macho' behavior.  Giving Shayera a kiss, she moved off the bed to get ready for a shower and to give the pair some privacy. It wasn't hard to tell that Hol and Stewart were going to make up. They always did.  "I'm going to go clean up.  Join me later if you want," she offered, "if not, there's food in the cooler."  She looked back in order to offer Shayera a sly wink.  "Unless your in a hurry to go meet someone else."

As soon as the Amazon was gone, a finger tapped the ON button for video. Shayera smirked, laying down on Diana's sheets so as to let more of her cleavage show. John would now be able to see her; know exactly what she was doing right now (where he wasn't), and how she looked (not that he could do anything but gape helplessly in Kansas), and how it felt to be apart and if he were here instead of there he wouldn't be missing out right now and wasn't that a -shame-?

((("So....having fun?")))

"Diana has been very accommodating.  Unlike a certain someone."

((("Shayera, how many times must I apologize?")))

"As many times as it takes," she laughed.  With an evil grin she started using her right hand and one of her pin feathers to play with her darkened aerola. Her tone grew speculative as she asked in mock boredom, "When you say _sleeping_...?"

((("For now my card's on stasis."))) John swallowed hard, because she'd shifted position for the camera again and...Shayera's left fingers were not anything like stationary. ((("Yesterday when he wasn't playing hard he was only interested in working even harder.")))

"To get?" she asked, smiling knowingly, moving the soft feather up to her mouth while continuing hold one shapely bent leg up so that her other hand could....

((("That too.")))

"Poor baby."

((("Not on purpose though. I'm thinking I've struck virgin territory here, Shay."  His mouth pursed at the sight of the other pin feather held firmly in her right hand, much further down than the left.  Not for long though as he groaned out loud.  ((("Y-You promised you'd only perform do _Lip Sync_ for me and me alone.")))

Smiling sweetly, Shayera stopped just long enough to say "Diana's in the shower, washing her body quite thoroughly by now.  All the nooks and crannies..." she speculatively trailed off.  "I might let her do mine after we finish here.  Depends on what you have to say.  Go on, John.  Tell me why you're missing so much."  She went back to synchronically threading thoroughly soaked pin feathers between her two sets of _lips_.

((("Kid doesn't have a clue. You have no idea how vexing that can be right now.")))

Damn frustratingly enough. Virgins could be fun, but at least the ones she'd run across had some inkling of where the flirting was heading...or even that she _was_ flirting. Something Shay never had an issue with was flirting.  She flirted like a ninja, all silent and deadly.

_((("Damn the woman.")))_ John's unintended-to-be-heard words made her grin. _  
_

.

Ah.  So John's newest conquest was being as accommodating as John would like?

_He's stuck between an icy rock and a hard place.  A -very- hard place unless he's modified the crotch of his Green Lantern suit._   Of late, John always did get cranky when he was denied sex.  _His own fault_.

"You poor thing..." she reiterated with little sympathy for his plight.  "All powered up with nowhere to unload. Want me to help teach him about the birds and the bees?" She let even more of her nether region show. "I'll be the bird playing in the nest while you be the bee with it's stinger."

John cleared his throat. He was doing that a lot now.  Shayera counted that as a victory.  Let him get all hot and bothered.  Let him have no recourse save for a cool shower or a hurried trip back to her for relief.

((("Hardly the time for that right now, but I'm holding onto the raincheck. Talk to you soon.")))

"Count on more than just talking." She knew her cheeky reply made him smile.  Clicking off the comm, she sat up.  Well, time for that shower.  Hopefully, Diana was still in the process of lathering up.

 .

.

Looking in on Allen, John saw that the kid was still fast asleep. He relaxed on the over-stuffed chair that was part of the bedroom's decor.  Or partially relaxed seeing as Little John was anything but relaxed.

Considering how long he had been awake already, catching up on a few winks before 'the inquisition' would probably not be a bad idea if he could manage it.

Maybe a quick cold shower first?

 

a/n: Yeah, I got to figure out how to change the ratings on something already in progress.


	8. Mutant Beaver

This is a non-profit work of fanfiction written for fun. The writer does not own any of the characters or places created by DC Universe or any other licensed product. Lyrics from: Live To Tell as sung by Madonna

* * *

_._

_I know where beauty lives._

_I've seen it once, I know the warmth she gives._

_The life that you could never see,_

_It shines inside-you can't take that from me._

_._

_._

_.  
_

Chapter 8: Mutant Beaver

.

They were as fine as corn silk, yet fiery...like a sunrise setting ablaze the mirrored surface of a frozen lake.

Uncut and wild:  an unexplored, virgin landscape of sun-kissed bounty.

It was going to be his. He'd _own_ it soon; was going to relish taming it's wildness, shaping the vibrant strands into the configuration he found the most pleasing.

A strong hand was sliding over the top of vermilion strands; measuring the quantity that parted before his fingers while calculating which he would allow to thrive and which would be removed. He lowered his head towards the softness where each was firmly planted within its bedding of pale loam. One single breath would allow his nasal passages to pick up the maximum variations of aromas that were to be found here and his alone to own.

Orgasmic.

There was the perfume of rich clay...surely crafted by the hand of some fertility god... and the scent of prairie grasses was tickling his nostrils. More? Yes...a growing fragrance of restless winds and lightning: the plains held an approaching storm on the horizon that was moving relentlessly closer. A strong breeze tried to remove the vibrant red strands from his touch. He tightened his hold, denying them freedom. Air currents crackled with ozone. Raw power split the air sending negative ions screaming through the atmosphere.  The wilderness did not want to yield to a master, but there would not be permitted any other path than submission.  Still...patience held rewards. He could allow himself to be drenched a little by its fury before he showed the wilderness who was boss. Anticipation of the coming struggle made him hard as iron. He was the lightning rod that would stand upright before the lightning and dare it to harm him. There would be rebellion, but in the end the wildness would show subservience even as he tilled its bounty. Was he not more powerful than any storm? It would be grounded by his might.  The coming storm would know it's master and yield the pasture.   Rapture smelled of...

Of...steaming waffles?

.

* * *

Sleepily turning his head to better catch the wonderful scent that was peculiar to heated baked goods, John's unfocused eyes strayed to the alarm clock long enough for the digital readout to register in his brain.

Green Lantern was instantly awake.

Freaking...! He'd been asleep for _how_ long? The fuck? For that matter, what was with dreaming of being a god claiming ownership of an expanse of uncultivated prairie land? He was John Stewart an ex-marine, damn it, not _Farmer John._ The only thing green about his thumb was the radiant light coming from his ring. He'd never milked a cow or hauled hay in his life and he wasn't planning to start.

Kal-El had been a farmer.

Kal-El had tended fields.

Orange red fields.

Damn it.

_Allen._

Stewart let out a low snarl of frustration.  He sat up on the bed, rubbing at his face to get better circulation going.

Great...assaulted by some freaky Freudian dreamscape: _Superman_ drooling over possessing _his_ discovery. Superman...who most likely would be on his way here before the hour to pull rank and haul the speedster's ass back to The Metro Tower. Stewart grimaced at the thought. Well...hell if he was going to let that happen! John would cram that cape down the Kryptonian's throat before he let Kal-El touch Allen. Especially after _that_ dream.

Though...

John couldn't say that he'd exactly have been _unhappy_ if the odd rural fantasy had continued for a bit longer because it had been a _nice_ dream. Too nice, because that didn't change the fact that the erotic imagery had left him with another hell of a loaded rifle barrel which he couldn't very well shoot off satisfactorily _and_ keep an eye on his flighty guest.

_Oh great...speaking of whom...  
_

Seemed his morning erection and Superman weren't the only challenges facing him today. The kid - _and-_ the bedding were missing from the hotel mattress he'd deposited Allen on before he went and fell victim to Morpheus's charms.

Aw...hell. Hell and goddamn it!

Stewart's first thought was that Allen had 'pulled a fast one': stolen the bedding and amscrayed leaving Stewart with a larger hotel bill and a mighty pissed League to deal with. That worry was put to rest by the fact that the waffle smell was growing stronger rather than steadily dissipating. Plus he really didn't see the kid as a thief who casually purloined sheets from lowly hotels.  No, Allen was more the type to save cats in trees than make off with someone's cheap linens.

But what if someone from The League had come early after all and was...?

Following his nose to the hotel room's tiny kitchen, Stewart found the kid safe and sound with nary another superhero in sight. The speedster was swathed in a sheet while sitting at the small table...wolfing down what was left of John's food supply. The rest of the missing bedding fabrics were covering the 'kitchen' area's floor in a way that was unlikely to have been randomly done. On the table and counter were uninhabited boxes of cereal and fruit bars neatly stacked opposite of the unopened frozen waffle ones, the empties pile being considerably bigger. The questionably-clean toaster had apparently been ignored as being considered too slow on the job: Allen was warming up the food by creating friction on a metal trivet. Once heated up the frozen goods were placed on the metal. He then held his hands over the waffle long enough for them to defrost and grow warm. Stewart had to admit it was a lot faster method than the usual way of toaster or microwave...at least for one who was velocity enhanced. He wondered if it would be possible to get those same hands to wrap around something else and bring _it_ to completion as well --then ruthlessly swept the thought from his mind. Instead, he forced himself to cross over to the ice box and opened the door, letting the freezer's cold air drift down and make at least one of his problems more manageable in size.

 _"Not nearly-as satisfactory an option as those pale hands would have been, but nobody said life was going to be all fun and games, Mr. Stewart."_ Green Lantern quietly muttered. It was rare that he considered the famous willpower that belonged to those within the Corps to be more akin to a curse than a blessing.

Voice a bit raspy, he greeted the kid from his place at the freezer. "Morning."

"Mrng!" came an enthusiastic yet muffled response.

Well, that was comprehensible. "Don't speak with your mouth full, kid." _At least not when filled with processed food stuff because I have something better in mind._

Damn it...such thoughts were not helping his problem go away.

"Didn't."

With his eyes (and more importantly his manhood) facing the assorted selections of barren refrigerator shelves and thus obscured from Allen's view by the appliance door, Stewart could only wonder if that had been a lie or not. Hell, would he have been able to tell if he had been staring the kid straight in the face? "Then don't speak with your mouth in overdrive." Physical matter taken care of as best as it was going to be, John closed the door pretending he hadn't seen anything that struck as particularly appetizing. Well, not actually pretending; the appliance as well as the cupboard was, indeed, bare. Even the mustard jar was gone.

His reluctant guest held out a pliable waffle. There was a bit of warm steam drifting up from it's pocketed surface like a gyrating temptress beckoning the onlooker to eat it. Guileless eyes peered questioningly at his mesmerized face. "Flash to John? You-want-one?"

_God, did he ever and he wasn't referring to the waffle._

John wrenched his gaze from Allen's appetizing form only to cringe at the travesty the kid had made of his own meal, _(Who puts everything but the kitchen sink soap on a cratered pancake?)_ but took the offered waffle and plopped it on a plate. He wasn't really all that hungry anymore even if the digestibility of the thing was a bit questionable. Seeing the kid chow down on batter cakes holding every condiment and food stuff under the sun didn't help in matters of digestion either. However, dining ambiance aside it was rapidly becoming apparent that any access to unguarded leftovers was in danger whenever Allen was about, so he'd better take a bite of breakfast while that was still an option. "I'm surprised that there's still any of _my_ food for you to offer up at all." He bit into his (thankfully) virgin-plain waffle, eyes determinedly set westward of the pickle/mustard/pepper/onion/maple syrup waffle Allen was downing lest his stomach start roiling.   The thing was dry and tasteless.  He'd consider that a bonus seeing what the alternatives were.

"You're not by any chance pregnant, are you?"

 _'Rudolph'_ had the decency to blush at the mention of the amount of his host's food he'd consumed without permission...though he also looked confused by John's joke. "Was-starving and-this-stuff-is-good!" He lathered the last of the mustard on a celery stick (how had that gotten into the fridge?) and rolled it with another waffle. "Pay-you-back-soon."

John waved it off. He had a feeling it would be a longer wait than "soon" anyway. If what he'd seen so far was any indicaiton, kid had to be spending all his money he'd earned from Tollbridge on consumables. "Consider us even if you'll start talking at a normal pace for me. Make that _my_ version of normal and not your version of a frantic hummingbird's," he quickly amended.  Gods new what the kid thought of as normal for anything.

The red head resignedly shrugged. "Okay.  But you're so _slow_."

Stomach doing little flip flops which he wasn't altogether certain of the foundation thereof, Stewart watched with some amazement as the kid warmed the last waffle and poured the remaining contents of a maple syrup bottle over it, cramming the lot into his mouth and...

-it was already gone. He felt a shiver go through him watching that pink tongue catch every bit of glistening sweetness that had not made it into his mouth on the first try. It looked long and flexible like the rest of him. Probably tasted of sugar, too. "Didn't you just stuff yourself last night?" he asked with equal parts humor and horror.

"Yeah...it-was a busy day yesterday."

_Act casual, Stewart.  Give him no reason to feel afraid.  It's just plain old breakfast conversation.  Best not to imply an interrogation._

"So you said.  What exactly did you do?"  He took another bite of his waffle, attention mainly on his guest.

Not an easy feat because...hyper.

"Just fixed stuff." Allen cleared the table in one eye blink, washed and put away his dishes on the second, scrubbed the countertops on the third. "Ecuador quake. Five point seven. Collapsed Quechuan homes. People buried. Unburied 'em. Rebuilt buildings. Incoming jet was losing a wheel in Polska. Welded it back before crashed on the tarmac. Forest fires threatened bison herd in Wyoming. Rebuilt a brick bridge support in Manchuria. Mongolian herdsmen in trouble with a flood. Lot of natural disasters in northern India. Lost yacht in Pacific near Sydney. Dog in sink hole in downtown Santiago. Stuff. More than usual. I fixed them, though. S'fine. No time to eat 'til late. Dehydrated. I'm okay now." The speedster had explained all of this in his version of short hand speech...some sort of compromise to having to speak slower than his wont. John noted that while relating his activities of yesterday, Allen had kick/scrunched the sheets on the floor over to the couch prior to plopping on it's plush cushioning where he found the TV remote and was fiddling with it. A blurry light show came and went from the TV screen casting weird shadows on the wall behind him. Allen frowned at the flickering mess of images and clicked the TV off, saying something that sounded like 'boring commercial breaks'. He started taking apart the remote, studying the innards. "Where are the gears in this thing?"

"So if I made all that out correctly, now you're okay." John agreed, though with an air of not being fully convinced of it. "But you might try not rushing your sentences...gives the impression you don't like who you are speaking with."

"Sorry."

"Sure.  Just remember what I said and slow down. Now, pay attention because this is an important question. Do you usually 'crash' this often?"

Allen glanced up. (John noticed that the remote was back in one piece...hopefully none the worse for the experience of Allen's autopsying it.) "Lately. There's so many problems here. Not like..." He stopped, looking lost for words.

"There?" John offered.

The kid smiled and shrugged. "Yeah." He turned on the television again (yes, the remote was still working), however, apparently the same commercials were yet attempting to sell drugs and lawyer fees as it was turned back off a half second later. Allen scowled at the box. "Slow."

Was that John's razor the pieces of which the kid was holding in his hands?

Okay, it was whole again.

"No, _it's_ normal; you _aren't_. Funny thing though...I could have sworn I told you not to leave the bed and I know you aren't deaf."

It was a bit annoying that even caught flat out Allen didn't have the grace to look guilty. "I didn't leave it."

(For the love of....The restless speedster had the _cat clock_ apart now. John hoped the item lived up to the feline ideal of eight more lives to spare if only so he wouldn't have to explain to the management how it had died a gruesome death.  Did the kid feel the need to do autopsies on every gizmo he saw?

John reminded himself that Allen made a living by repairing broken mechanics and that the TV remote had worked again--which bode well for his razor's warranty and a time keeping kitty.)

"Then it's solely my imagination that the bed is still in the _bedroom_ while _you_ are in _here_ rather than in said _bedroom_ and..." he glanced around him, unable to put off asking any longer "why there are sheets and comforters everywhere?"

"You said I had to stay in the bedroom.  You didn't say that the bed had to stay in that room."

Green eyes watched as all expression slid right off of Stewart's face.

 _You are fucking kidding_ me.  Pinching the bridge of his nose, John allowed, "At the time I had no idea that you were into interior decorating."

Allen smiled into the funky timepiece's arrangement of gears.  Privately, John thought its current state just made the cat's grin all that more creepy. "Isn't any room where a bed _is_ a 'bedroom' by definition?" the speedster absently reasoned, clearly more interested on what made Cat Clocks tick than exploring words and their meanings.

"No. The bed is still in the bedroom," John pointed out, nudging the edge of a navy blue comforter with a boot. "What we have here is a mess of sheets and blankets on walkabout. I'm a bit upset about it. So much so that I think a certain green motorcycle is going to stay safely parked in my ring."

"What? No!" Allen was instantly poised like a panther on the couch, glaring at him. John backed up a half step, but the speedster was apparently more annoyed than actually angry about the very idea of reneging on a deal.  At least he wasn't doing anything more hostile than throwing John a dirty look.  "You didn't say the bedding and mattress had to stay together," Allen argued, pointing an accusing finger Stewart's way. "Technically, a 'bed' is any place or article used to sleep in. Never left the bed so I am good."

"I think I'm getting the picture now." John ruefully sighed at the mess around them. "You're claiming that the odd dropcloths we've been standing on...they are so you'd never be leaving the 'bed' in order to cook breakfast?"

The kid relaxed, settled back down on the cushions, and tried the TV again. The clock was back on it's wall hook, ticking happily away as if nothing had happened. "I kept to the rules. Ergo, you still owe me a game of chase."

John shook his head, but he was smiling at the kid's warped view of logic. "Okay, Mr. Spock, this time I'll concede..."

"Call me Allen."

"...but, _Allen_ , I'll have to remember how creative you can be _-with-_ said rules.  From now on I'm going to be far more precise in what I say." Silence save for the sound of channels being flipped through.

John tried again. Unfortunately even though he was a patient man, Superman was increasingly...not.  Kal-El had inposed a time limit and that was fast approaching. "Keystone isn't like where you came from, is it? First time in the big, bad city?" Stewart teased.

"Been around a few weeks now; it's okay," Allen defended. "Confusing place. Metropop.." he stumbled over the word he wasn't quite sure of, forehead wrinkling in thought. " _Metro...mother. Polis..city:_ Metropolis" The speedster grinned, happy he'd found the right word if a tad late. "But, I'm getting better. Learning a lot, but TV sure is boring most of the time; don't get why everyone wants one in every room. The library books are so much faster to learn from. But they aren't being kept up to date like the internet. Why is that?"

_Books were faster than the internet?_

"Maybe because we aren't all in a rush like you are."  John really didn't want to get into the costs and labor involved in printing on paper versu digital websites.  "Speaking of boring, I'd hardly call this little burb we're in by such a grand phrase as that. Haven't you been to Los Angeles and New York by now to know what a real city is like?"

Allen laughed and nodded. "Megalopolises!" He spread his arms way out, face filled with delight. "Exciting places-action all-the-time. Not so boring, but weird-cities bumping into cities-one big mass of people so close together. Kind'a closet... _claustrophobic_ after awhile. Keystone is good to crash in." Nimble fingers again took up the mistreated clock, watching the restored cat's tail do it's thing. "You have neat stuff."

"Yeah...but that's not mine, I'm just short-term renting these rooms and Cheshire Cat came with this place. So where did you hang before you came to Keystone?" Allen shrugged and went silent. His attention had already shifted from the old clock to playing with the frayed ends of his shirt as his emotions executed a one-eighty turn from happy to morose. "Bad memories?" John guessed. The kid brushed his hand over his face so fast John wasn't sure it had even happened. Was Allen crying?

"I've-got-to-go." The next blink and he was at the table, folding up his empty totes.

Oh no.  No, no, no!

Deadline was in only an hour. If he let Allen out of his sight...

John automatically considered using his ring to hold him here; forced himself not to. The kid would notice it again if he did power up and be gone in a blink anyway...only with a reason for not trust him again. "I'll come with you." He moved so that he was blocking the doorway, trying to make it _not_ look like he had situated his body right there on purpose. Flash didn't seem to notice, however; he appeared too self-involved with fussing over his things and mentally going over what he needed to do while John frantically thought up ways to make the speedster stay put.

"Morning patrol. Library. Classes. Gotta learn how to fix more things. Be faster. Better."

"Hold on a minute, Allen, what if you could study and help others without having to work for Tollbridge in order to feed yourself? Surely he isn't paying you enough that you can afford both food and rent?"

"Rent?" Green eyes squinted at him as if Stewart had voiced some foreign language.  "You said a version of that word before."

"Renting?  "Paying someone with money for the right to use their property for an agreed upon time?  You are living somewhere, aren't you?" John chuckled. "Or are you some sort of wild child?"

For a split moment the kid looked caught between laughing or crying. He snorted instead. "Yeah. I got a place to sleep, but I don't pay money for it."

"Really? Where?" Lantern asked.

"By the river." Allen paused, carefully tucking each folded tote into reinforced slots made in his jacket liner and making sure that they were secure. "North of here."

John brought up the surrounding topography in his mind. "There's nothing but wilderness out there for miles and miles." He teasingly smiled at the youth. "So you actually _are_ a bush baby raised by roadrunners."

"I _have_ a place," Allen repeated, sounding a bit irked that John wasn't believing him.

"Yeah?" John quirked an eyebrow on purpose and was rewarded with Allen pouting at him. The kid crossed his arms in defiance of John's disbelief.

"Yeah. "I'm-not-helpless.  I'm-good."

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, but....   Let's see it then, hotshot," John confidently smirked.  It was answered by a mischievous smirk.

"Okay."

Well, that caught John by surprise.  He'd fully expected Allen to start spouting reasons why John was not to know where he normally hung his clothes because of stuff like privacy.  This was too easy.

"Okay?  Right, then lets see _aaaaaah-_ "

* * *

Next thing he knew, John felt himself dropping out of a pair of arms. He blinked at his new surroundings while firmly telling his stomach to keep down that waffle he'd eaten or else. He blinked a few more times for good measure.

Instead of a hotel room he was standing in some woodlands.

"You okay?" a worried Allen fidgeted in front of him. "I'm sorry.' I don't usually carry anyone for this far a distance.  Did I hurt you? What-do-I-?"

"Kid, that was worse than a damned Gammorean transporter tube system, but I'll survive. Where are we?"  The response was a nervous smile, waving a hand towards something behind John.

"My place."

.

John turned around to find he was standing near the doorway of a rustic...cabin? No...that was too elegant a word for this arboreal monstrosity. It seemed more like something a pair of giant mutant beavers had constructed here with pieces of split wood and random bits of dead tree chunks thrust together repeatedly until they stopped falling prey to gravity just to end any further abuse.

Wherever _here_ was. He'd have to get the exact coordinates from his ring later when he was alone. No sense letting Allen know as yet _all_ the capabilities of his main weapon.

So.... John eyed the collection of wood with distaste.

The kids place was an abandoned rodent's abode.

That was....unique.

Batcave, Arrowcave, inner city tenant's building, suburban tract homes....yeah.  He'd seen some petty diverse superhero dwellings.

But a giant beaver lodge?

"Where's the lake?"

"Lake? You want to swim-bathe-thirsty?" a confused Allen tilted his head as if that angle would help him comprehend John's words.

Stewart didn't bother to explain his joke.  Instead he asked, "You're squatting this pile of junk?" The words just slipped out before he could stop them. Hey, he was an architect! Judging structure integrity was like an instinct and this mound wasn't so much a building as an arranged jumble of debris made of the surrounding oak, hawthorn, cottonwood, and hickory trees.  Obviously the original occupants had died.  Probably eaten by coyotes.

"No...I built it." The kid was clearly trying and failed not to look hurt by his criticism.

"You... _built_ this pile of junk?" An incredulous Stewart reached out and grabbed a chunk of wood--giving it a good yank expecting pieces to come loose in his hand like so many over-sized toothpicks. Nothing did so.  In fact, John was surprised to find that he couldn't budge any of it at all. His fingertips cursorily felt for nails, the bulging edges of glue, or any kind of bonding material that was keeping the bits of tree pieces together...and came up literally empty handed. Aesthetically, he'd give the structure a failing grade unless you were really looking for something 'Woodland Debris', but structurally, it was pretty solid. He gave it another -more vicious- tug. _Damned solid_. How the hell was it all holding together?

"Yeah. Built-it. 'Won't-fall-on-you." Allen's scowled, his previous distress at Stewart's callous words turning into exasperation and making him forget to speak slowly. He vibrated until he was a blur and..the blur disappeared into the mass of wood.

Apparently the speedster didn't see a need for a door let alone a key.  Huh...Neat trick.  Shades of Martian Manhunter.  At least now he could get a better look at the outside construction...

A moment later the kid reappeared looking none the worse for his second morphing trip through the pile of branches. "I thought you wanted to see my place?"

"Sure. If I could figure out how to get in," John huffed.  (He really did want to solve the mystery of how it was not falling apart.)  "Or do you mind my blasting a hole in this thing?" Allen's eyes widened with realization.

"Oh...forgot. You need a _door_. Um..maybe..."  John placed a placating hand on the speedster's shoulder.

"Don't strain yourself, hotshot.  I'll make my own entrance."  John used his ring to form a small backhoe. It scooped away a ditch beside Beaver Dam then transformed into a lever. Mindful of the questionable structural integrity, he was careful to not lift the lodge more than necessary for him to shimmy underneath. Once through, hands caught his arms to help him stand up.

"I'm sorry. Didn't plan for visitors. I should have. A door.  I..." the flustered kid offered a series of apologies. A quick blur of hands and John presumed his uniform was free of dirt and grime. "Next time I'll put in a door."

"Yeah, and while your at it you ever given thought to some windows? Dark as pitch in here."

John removed the lever in order to make an overhead light, inwardly thinking that he _could_ have cleaned away the dirt easily on his own with just a quick burst from his ring, but liked the serendipity of Allen's hands touching him.  Maybe he could invoke a repeat where the motions were slowed to where he could actually feel them?

_Down, Little John._

"And a window," Allen sheepishly agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. It was impossible to tell with the emerald light, but Stewart was pretty sure the kid was blushing in mortification. "I...kind of already know where everything is so didn't see the need... Wow, I'm-an-idiot."

"Allen? _Enough_ already."

Allen cast his eyes downward and closed his mouth lest he inadvertently anger his guest further.  John took advantage of this to peer around the enclosed space.

Inside there wasn't much. Only a twin-sized cot with a thin blanket folded on top, a  footlocker underneath, and a split-wood table.  An ergonomically-shaped tree stump apparently served duty as a chair.  On the table were some candles stuck upright into a cereal box filled with sand. The table was covered with neat stacks of tatty non-fiction hardbacks, magazines, and spiral notebooks; all that for their dilapidated condition could have come from the 'free' box at a yard sale. There were a few newer ones..textbooks on subjects that corresponded to Allen's school courses.  All-in-all it was your typical, immaculate, mutant Beaver's studio room in the woods.

Allen lit the candles, but the pathetic flames were pretty useless as a means to see by. John still kept up his own source of light.

"Cozy. So this is where you live."

The red head giggled as he corrected him. "Nope. This is where I rest and keep personal stuff." He gestured outside. " _That's_ where I live."  His eyes sparkled.  "I like the outdoors."

"I can see why." John dryly commented with a frown. "Not much else here to want to return to."

"It's enough," a now sullen Allen defended, sorting through his papers and picking certain ones out to stuff into the newer books. He hung up his jacket. "I don't need a lot."

"Enough, or all you can afford?" Stewart tactlessly pointed out, hoping he wasn't going too far. The kid was still tolerating John's presence despite his crack about his shelter building aptitude, but John didn't want to push it. On the other hand, upsetting their comfort zone a little bit here and there might get Allen to spill something else that he wouldn't otherwise.

"As long as I can get by and eat enough food, I'm fine. Online classes are expensive, but the knowledge will help me fit in better." Allen practically recited.  He sighed. There was a blur and he was dressed as in his superhero getup. "I gotta move. World doesn't stop for lazy heroes and the library opens earlier today so that's two hours less to patrol. Computers for online classes are first come, first served at 6am as well as being slow to print out stuff."

"Kid, I really can't stick around for that long and..." _(Dammit, Superman wants us at the Metro Tower by four!) "and we..."  
_

"I'll swing by to see you now and then," Allen affirmed.  "Not a problem."

"Make it sooner rather than later.  I'll wait for you here."

The red head shook his head.  "Not a good idea, GL. I might get held up by things."  Allen frowned as if remembering something he'd recently forgotten.  "Then Mason asked me to see him before 8:30am about something and...it might be a long wait even by your standards."

"Mason?"

"Yeah.  Just said was really important. I didn't ask. Probably wants to know how my online school work is going. He said before that he's interested in how well I'm coping and all."

Pretending that he wasn't already familiar with Allen's academic life, Stewart asked, " _Online_ lessons? Why not take regular classes?"

Wry smile.  "Tried. Got bored."

"First class is always rather dull." Stewart agreed with fake sympathy.

Allen snorted at his words. "You've no idea.  Got bored waiting for the teacher to finish saying his name and that of the class. Computers are slow, sure, but not as slow as people---as that. Me in an actual classroom for 3600 seconds would be kind of awkward, don't you think?" the speedster pointed out, a slight twinkle of merriment returning to his eyes. Stewart smiled and nodded in agreement. Impatient as he had already proven to be, the kid wouldn't be able to sit still for an hour class any more than a toddler would.

They went outside the same way each had come inside. Again, Allen helped him get cleaned up and _again_ , Stewart 'forgot' to inform the red head that it was an unnecessary action.

"Either way, these classes keep you from running around fixing things?"

The kid blinked at him. "A lot of things do that: eating, showering, having fun if have time." Lithe shoulders raised to signify: _What can you do?_ He closed his eyes for a moment and grimaced. "Times passing.  I gotta go."

"You have a clock out here?" John chuckled.

"I can feel it...the Earth's motion under me...like a clock."

"Neat trick."  And it was if true.  "What about chasing the Batcycle?"

The kid's eyes popped open.  He looked stricken at the reminder, but apparently duty did take place over pleasure. "We can play chase later. _I gotta go_ ," he repeated with more emphasis.

Unstated yet obvious to John was that Allen was getting physically stressed having to keep his speed down for so long. How weird was that...getting tired from being slow?

"Well, I'm certainly not going to argue that you-"

"Tha'sgd."

"-shouldn't shower or eat and sleep, however...crap."

John was back in his apartment; alone; the kid was gone. In all likelihood _Flash_ was traveling the globe helping little old ladies cross the city before walking through the doors of the Keystone Public Library as Rudolph Allen and offering the receptionist that brilliant smile of his. John was half inclined to go down there and confront him again, especially as he didn't have a lot of time. Superman wasn't one to make idle threats when he was pissed, so The Man of Steel would be over here ready to pluck up the kid like some blue and red eagle after a choice lamb if John didn't meet that deadline. Unfortunately, he got the feeling the kid would not appreciate his company right now or at the library later on. He had been pretty adamant about wanting to concentrate on his studies; neither had he invited Green Lantern to patrol with him.

Did this mean that Allen found John's presence too distracting? John smirked, pleased at the idea that the kid thought him impossible to ignore. It had to be in a good way, too, or he could have deposited John anywhere else than Stewart's hotel room. Oa knew that even somewhere half-way around the world would have been possible after his sarcasm over the kid's abode and living choices.

It was serendipity either way, though, wasn't it?

With Allen intent on his 'duties' and then waiting for slow computers at the library to parcel out megabytes, that left Stewart some time to snoop without having to worry about being knocked about by an angry red head... (John reached up and turned off his League device) _-or-_ an angry Kryptonian who didn't know where he was or what the 'mutant eager beaver' looked like out of costume. Besides, the kid hadn't forbidden him from returning to his 'place' without Allen's being present--still,  he'd do it on the sly.

"Ring...I want the coordinates to where I was standing one minute ago."


End file.
